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TALES OF TRAVEL 



TALES OF TRAVEL 



^^^,. ■ .. BY THE 

MARQUESS CURZON OF KEDLESTON 

GOLD MEDALLIST (1895) AND PRESIDENT (1911-1914) OF 
THE ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY 



Beyond the East, the sunrise, beyond the West, the sea. 
And East and West, the wander-thirst that will not let me be. 

Oerald Gould, 




NEW Simw YORK 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



Gr4fc3 



COPYRIGHT, 1923, 
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



TALES OP TRAVEL, n 



PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 



)C1A760798 

NOV '9 1923 



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INTRODUCTION 

Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit. 

Virgil, Aeneid i. 203. 

I WONDER if it may be permitted to a politician 
to remember the days when he was only sec- 
ondarily a politician, and when he found the chief 
zest of life in travel, not indeed in aimless and 
desultory travel, but in travel with that most gen- 
erally unpopular of all attributes, a purpose. In 
my case the purpose was twofold: to see the beau- 
tiful and romantic and, above all, the ancient 
things of the earth — ^taste which I probably share 
with most travellers, but which took me prefer- 
ably to distant Oriental lands; and, secondly, to 
see how far the study of those places and peoples 
would help me to form an opinion on the Eastern 
responsibilities and destinies of Great Britain. 
This was a subject in which I took from boyhood 
an absorbing interest, and which led me to devote 
many months in each year, and, after I had 
entered Parliament, the bulk of my Parliamentary 
holidays, to wanderings in all parts of Asia from 
the Mediterranean to the China Seas. The results 
of these studies were embodied long ago in books 
of a more or less serious character, and I have no 
intention to repeat any part of that story here. 
But in the course of these journeys I visited 

vii 



viii TALES OF TRAVEL 

many other countries and places, twice going 
round the world, and exploring unfrequented 
spots, not in Asia only, but in Europe, Africa, 
and America. In certain of these cases I studied 
rather deeply some subjects of more than ephem- 
eral interest, I came across some remarkable per- 
sons, and I made notes of many curious scenes. 
I have found it a diversion, in the turmoil of 
public life, to put these notes into final shape, and 
have even thought that they might prove of in- 
terest to a larger audience. 

After I had spent some years in travelling and 
in writing about my travels, it gave me greater 
pleasure to be awarded the Gold Medal of the 
Royal Geographical Society for exploration and 
research than it did to become a Minister of the 
Crown; and every moment that I could snatch 
from politics^ — ^before they finally captured and 
tied me down — I devoted to the pursuit of my 
old love. 

Even now, if in rare moments I seek literary 
distraction, it is in the perusal of works of travel 
and exploration that I am certain to find it; and 
when foreign affairs are specially vexatious or 
perplexing, recreation and repose come stealing in 
upon me from the memories of the past. I am 
once again in the wilds of Asia, or on the moun- 
tain-tops, or amid the majestic monuments of 
bygone ages. At one moment the wonders of 
nature fill the picture, at another, the scarcely less 
remarkable masterpieces of man. The shut pages 
of the past unroll, and the characters written upon 



INTRODUCTION ix 

them a quarter of a century and more ago start 
again to life. 

On these occasions I remember, ahnost with a 
start, that it is the middle-aged and sedentary 
pohtician who in the early nineties shot Ovis Poll 
on the Pamirs, who nearly foundered in a typhoon 
off the coast of Annam, and was reported as 
murdered in Afghanistan. I am again the 
youthful rover who was stoned by furious Span- 
iards on the quays of Valencia; who climbed to 
the crater of Etna in deep snow by night to wit- 
ness the glory of the sunrise over Sicily and the 
Straits; who saw the cone of Adam's Peak throw 
its shadow, also at sunrise, over the folded mist 
wreaths that smoked above the steaming valleys 
of Ceylon; who stayed with Amir Abdur Rahman 
Khan at Kabul, and with the afterwards murdered 
Mehtar of Chitral; who arrested the Abbot of a 
Korean monastery for steahng his watch and 
purse, and was himself arrested as a spy in 
Khorasan and in Wakhan; who was wrecked off 
the coast of Dalmatia, and explored the source of 
the Oxus; who wrote travel books that, mirabile 
dictUj still find readers and have appreciated in 
value; and who even composed an Oxford Prize 
Essay in the cabin of a steamer on the Nile. 

Sometimes, as I recall those days, I find myself 
reviving memories or telling tales that seem to 
belong to a past that is quite dead, not merely 
by reason of the change in my own environment, 
but also because of the revolution in the conditions 
of travel, or in the state of the peoples and lands 



X TALES OF TRAVEL 

which I visited. For instance, in some countries 
where I rode thousands of weary miles on horse- 
back, the traveller now proceeds rapidly and com- 
fortably by carriage or motor, or even by train. 
In other countries — as, for instance, Korea, which 
at the time of my visit in 1892 was still inde- 
pendent and had a Court and a King — political 
changes have brought about a transformation not 
less startling. And so it comes into my mind that 
there may be something in the experiences of 
those days that may be worthy of record before 
I have forgotten them, and which other people 
will perhaps not have the chance of repeating in 
exactly the same way. 

The following pages contain these memories. 
They include nothing that has been published in 
any of my other books, and they have nothing to 
do with politics. They relate to many parts of the 
world, but principally to the East, which has al- 
ways been to me the source of inspiration and 
ideas. Most of the papers are of no great length, 
and only a few are learned. Whether I ought to 
advertise or to apologise for the latter must be 
left to the judgment of my readers. All relate 
to places or incidents lying somewhat outside the 
ordinary run of travel. Had I written a volume 
of political memoirs, could I have hoped to escape 
controversy? As it is, nothing that I have set 
down will, I trust, excite dispute. The genuine 
traveller quarrels with nobody — except his prede- 
cessors or rivals, a temptation which I have been 



INTRODUCTION xi 

careful to avoid. All countries are his washpot. 
All mankind is his friend. 

Perhaps the most striking testimony that I could 
offer to the change that has passed over the scenes 
of my earlier journeys — and incidentally also to 
the chronically unstable equilibrium of the East 
— ^would be a reference to the dramatic fate that 
has befallen so many of the rulers and statesmen 
with whom I was brought in contact, and some of 
whom appear in these pages, in the days to which 
I refer. Shah Nasr-ed-Din of Persia, my audi- 
ence with whom at Teheran in 1889 is mentioned 
later on, perished in 1896 by the weapon of an 
assassin. The ruler of Chitral with whom I stayed 
in 1894 was shot and killed by the half-brother 
who had sat at table with him and me only two 
months before. The Emperor of Annam, who 
presented me with a golden decoration at Hue in 
1892, was deposed in 1907 and subsequently ban- 
ished. The poor little King of Korea, who con- 
versed with me in low whispers at Seoul in 1892, 
first saw his Queen murdered in the Palace and 
was afterwards himself forced to abdicate. His 
son, who struck me as the stupidest young man I 
ever met, shared the same fate. Deposition was 
the fate of the trembling figure of Norodom, the 
King of Cambodia, whom I visited at Pnompenh. 
The Amir of Bokhara, whom I saw in his capital 
in 1888, was afterwards expelled from his country 
and throne. Abbas Hilmi, whom Lord Cromer 
took me to visit at Cairo, soon after he had 



xii TALES OF TRAVEL 

ascended the Khedivial throne, is also a fugitive 
and an exile. The life of that eminent Japanese 
statesman, the Marquis Ito, who was so friendly 
to me when I was in Japan, was cut short by the 
knife of an assassin. Almost alone among the 
Eastern potentates whose guest I was, the Amir 
Abdur Rahman Khan, who told me that he lived 
in daily fear of his life, but that his people had 
not the courage to kill him, died in his bed. But 
of his two sons with whom I used to dine at 
Kabul, the elder, Habibulla, was murdered in his 
tent, and the younger, INTasrulla, languishes in 
prison. His Commander-in-Chief, known as the 
Sipah Salar, a gigantic figure, 6 feet 3 inches in 
height, and of corresponding bulk, who rode at 
my side from Dacca to Jellalabad on my way to 
Kabul in 1904, died suddenly a few years later in 
circumstances which left little doubt that his end 
was not natural. 

Even in Europe my diaries refer to more than 
one similar tragedy. As far back as 1880 I recall 
a visit to the picturesque castle of Herrenhausen 
in Bavaria, where, in a room adorned exclusively 
with furniture and decorations in the shape of 
swans, I heard the steady tramp overhead, as he 
passed to and fro, of the mad King of Bavaria, 
who ended by drowning himself in a lake. I 
recall very clearly, and others have related, the 
incidents of a dinner with King George of Greece, 
who came to his death at the hand of an assassin 
in the streets of Salonika. 

These incidents illustrate no more uncommon 



INTRODUCTION xiii 

phenomenon than that the lives of monarehs and 
statesmen are subject to exceptional and fatal 
risks, particularly in the East. But as I recall 
the features and tones of those ill-fated victims, 
so famous or so prominent in their day, a chasm 
appears to open between me and the time when I 
saw them in the plenitude of their strength and 
power — and I seem to be almost living in a world 
of different circimistances and different men. 

I have said that this volume, which, if it be found 
acceptable, will be followed by a successor, is in- 
tended to be descriptive rather than didactic in 
object, and that I hope not so much to instruct 
as to entertain. But a few of my subjects may 
be thought to make a more sober claim, or to de- 
mand a more definite apology. The portrait of 
the Afghan Amir, with whom I was the only 
Englishman to stay at Kabul in a private and 
unofficial capacity, is the likeness of one of the 
most remarkable men of his time — a man who, 
had he lived in an earlier age and not been crushed, 
as he told me, hke an earthenware pot between 
the rival forces of England and Russia, might 
have founded an Empire, and swept in a tornado 
of blood over Asia and even beyond it. The 
paper entitled " The Voice of Menmon," in the 
investigations with regard to which I was assisted 
by my old Oxford tutor, J. L. Strachan David- 
son, afterwards Master of Balliol, may, I hope, 
be regarded as a positive contribution to histor- 
ical and archaeological research. The " Singing 
Sands " is an essay on a subject which has always 



xiv TALES OF TRAVEL 

greatly interested me — ^namely, the mysterious 
moaning and muttering of the sands in desert 
places, as a rule far removed from ordinary ken — 
and which has never before been treated with the 
fulness which it deserves. When I began this 
essay I intended it merely to be a synopsis of the 
cases of musical or sounding sands of which I had 
previously heard descriptions or attempted the 
investigation. But, as I proceeded, the subject 
expanded, until I found myself producing a trea- 
tise which may possibly fill a modest place in the 
scientific literature of travel, while the story may 
still appeal to the dilettante reader by reason of 
its mystery and romance. 

There are many other aspects of travel, apart 
from its incidents or experiences, which I should 
like to examine, but which must be deferred to 
a later volume. Among these is a study of the 
Philosophy of Travel — its character, history, pur- 
pose, methods, justification, and results; and a 
chapter or more on the Literature of Travel — a 
subject that, to the best of my knowledge, has 
never received attention save perhaps in the casual 
pages of a magazine. 

Here, however, I conclude with a reflection that 
will certainly not offend by its seriousness. The 
joy of travel, while it is being pursued, lies in a 
good many things: in the observation of new peo- 
ples and scenes, in the making of discoveries, in 
the zest of sport or adventure, in the pleasures of 
companionship or the excitement of new acquaint- 
ance, even in the collection of often valueless ob- 




ROPE BRIDGE IN THE HINDU KUSH 



[xv 



INTRODUCTION xvii 

jects, and the achievement of purely illusory bar- 
gains. But I think that even more does it consist 
in the half-intangible but still positive memories 
that it leaves. One can make friends with places 
as well as people; and an hour's, even a minute's, 
experience in one spot may be more precious than 
a sojourn of months in another. These are the 
intimacies that survive, and constitute a perpetual 
endowment. With them we can always solace the 
hoiu^s, whether of idleness or gloom. 

Whereas the experiences of life at home, even 
when they are not conmionplace, are apt to fade 
quickly, and sometimes to be completely forgotten, 
the incidents of travel, a quarter or even half of 
a century ago, stand out indelibly as though 
graven in steel. Each of us has his own museum 
of such recollections. Among mine not the least 
prized are these: the music of many nightingales 
floating across the water from the coasts of 
Athos; the incredible glory of Kangchenjunga as 
he pierces the veils of the morning at Darjiling; 
the crossing of a Himalayan rope-bridge, sagging 
in the middle, and swaying dizzily from side to 
side, when only a strand of twisted twigs is 
stretched between your feet and the ravening tor- 
rent below; the first sight of the towered walls, 
minae murorum ingentes, of Peking; the head 
and shoulders of an Indian tiger emerging with- 
out a suspicion of sound from the thick jungle 
immediately in front of the posted sportsmen; the 
stupendous and terraced grandeur of Angkor 
Wat; the snowy spire of Teneriffe glimmering at 



xviii TALES OF TRAVEL 

sunrise across a hundred miles of ocean; the 
aethereal and ineffable beauty of the Taj. 

I am not going to trouble my readers by saying 
anything about these particular mind-pictures in 
this book. I merely record them in passing, as a 
part of my own spiritual possession, just as others 
will have and will cherish theirs. The things that 
I have preferred to set down here are experiences 
or memories rather less personal and fugitive, 
which I may be justified in inviting others, even 
though on paper and in print only, to share, and 
which, here and there, may give them a few mo- 
ments of entertainment or reflection. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTION vii 



One 

THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 25 

Two 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN .... 63 

Three 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 101 

Four 
THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI .... 141 

Five 
THE GREAT WATERFALLS OF THE WORLD . 163 

Six 

" LEST WE FORGET " 187 

I The Death-bed of Sir Heney Lawrence 187 

II The Billiard Table of Napoleon . . 194* 

Seven 

THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 209 

xix 



XX TALES OF TRAVEL 



Eight 



PAGE 



PAGES FROM A DIARY 233 



I The Dancing Giel of Keneh, 

II The Aeab Runaway at Nejep 

III The Robber of Khagan 

IV The Greek Executioner 

V By the Waters of Babylon 

VI The Havildar of Sarhad. 

VII In the Buiiii Ring . 

VIII The Maharaja's Adjuration 

IX The Young Judge . 



233 
235 
241 

2m 

249 
251 
257 
261 
264 



Nine 



HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 269 

I The " Pig and Whistle " at Bunji . 269 

II The Top Hat at Teheran.. . . 274 

III The Entry into Kabul . . . 277 

IV The Annamite Girl .... 283 
V The State Entry into Datia . . 285 

VI The Curiosity of Li Hung Chang . 289 

VII The State Entry into Koweit . . 295 

VIII The Captured Colonel . . .303 

IX How I Won a Vote . . . . 306 

Ten 

THE SINGING SANDS . . ,. . . . 313 

INDEX .... . . . . . 399 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

LoKD CuEzoN OP Kedleston . . . FroTitispiece 

PAGH 

Rope Beidge in the Hindu Kush . . . xv 

The Geeat Mosque, Kaiewan .... 29 

Amie Abdue Rahman Khan 61 

Map of Afghanistan, Peepaeed and Cieculiated 

BY Amie Abdue Rahman Khan ... 68 

Signed Lettee feom Amie Abdue Rahman Khan 80 

The Vocal Memnon (Right-hand Figuee) . 105 

VicTOEiA Falls, Feont View . . . .147 

VicTOEiA Falls (Rain Foeest on Left) . .153 

VicTOEiA Falls, Mouth op Goege . . .157 

Kaieteue Falls in Dey Season . . . .165 

Kaieteue Falls in Flood 171 

Iguasu Falls 175 

The Geesoppa Falls . ., . . . .179 

SiE Joseph Fayej:e's House (with the Alteeed 

Insceiption) at Lucknow .... 191 

LoNGWOOD (Napoleon's Billiaed Room on Left) 195 

Inteeioe of Napoleon's Billiaed Room . . 199 

Plantation House, St. Helena (Billiaed Room 

ON Left) 203 

Japanese Weestlees 221 

Nejef 237 

Saehad . 253 

xxi 



xxii TALES OF TRAVEL 

PAGE 

Sir N. Chamberlain, Hon G. Curzon, H. Len- 

NARD, AND P. LuKE AT BuNJI . . . 271 

Lord Sawsbury, Li Hung Chang, Hon. G. Cur- 
zon, AND Sir F. Bertie at Hatfield, 1896 . 291 
The Victoria on the Shore at Koweit . . 297 
Body-guard of Sheikh of Koweit . . . 301 

Reg-i-Ruwan 323 

Jebel Nakus 339 



One 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 



One 
THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 

And they cried aloud,, and cut themselves after their manner 
with knives and lancets, till the blood gushed out upon them. 

1 Kings xviii. 28. 

IN the spring of 1885 I was in Tunis. At no 
time in recent history a very interesting place, 
it had, since the French usurpation of 1881, lost 
what little characteristic individuality it then pos- 
sessed. The Bey was a harmless puppet. His 
palace, which visitors flocked to see, was very 
much like gilt gingerbread with a good deal of the 
gilding rubbed off. The bazaars were inferior to 
those of Constantinople, Damascus, and Cairo; 
and the town, once so famous for its unblemished 
Orientalism, had blossomed into the tawdry splen- 
dour of boulevards, cafes, and four-storied hotels. 
I knew, however, from the map, that Kairwan 
was situated only about one hundred miles to the 
south; and Kairwan was a place that had long 
exercised over my mind a mystic fascination. 
There was something very dramatic and inspiring 
in the story of this secluded city, the capital of a 
great conqueror twelve centuries ago, the metropo- 
lis of a mighty empire, the shrine of an imposing 
religion, and the refuge of both religion and em- 

25 



26 TALES OF TRAVEL 

pire when Europe had driven them forth. Even 
in its long decline Kairwan had been the rallying- 
point and haunt of pilgrimage to the Uving, and 
the last resting-place to the dead, for the thousand 
tribes that profess the faith of the Prophet from 
the Pillars of Hercules to the Nile. For twelve 
hundred years inviolate — its sanctuaries undefiled 
by foot of Christian or of Jew — at length the 
holy city had yielded up its secrets to the martial 
ambitions of a newly fledged European republic; 
and the great Mosque of Okbar, and the tomb- 
chamber of Sidi Sahab, the companion of the 
Prophet, had been profaned by the sacrilegious 
feet of the Zouaves of France. And yet, even in 
her desolation, ravished and forlorn, she still re- 
tained the halo of sanctity with which centuries 
had adorned her brow. Though the enemy was 
within her gates, she was his superior by reason 
of a majesty which none could gainsay. Kairwan 
still appealed to the imagination with resistless 
persuasiveness of accent, and to Kairwan I deter- 
mined that I must go. 

Twelve hours in a French steamboat brought 
me at dawn on a brilliant morning to the little 
port of Susa, which lay in its glittering garb of 
whitewash — houses, walls, and roofs all drenched 
and crusted with the same unmitigated and blind- 
ing hue — looking like some great sea-mew preen- 
ing its snowy plumage on the shore. With the 
assistance of a courteous Maltese gentleman, who 
was trading in the place, I engaged a carriage and 
four (saddle-horses were unknown) for the jour- 



THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 27 

ney to Kairwan. It was not, I may remark, an 
equipage which would have provoked envy, though 
it would undeniably have excited wonder, in 
Hyde Park. However, it did very well for the 
purpose; the animals covered the thirty-six miles 
in the respectable time of six hours; and the some- 
what barbaric and inelegant structure of the 
vehicle was, I found, only too successfully adapted 
to resist the excruciating inequalities of the road. 

I was informed at Susa that the French, who 
were in military occupation both of Susa and 
Kairwan, had constructed a little railroad of nar- 
row gauge between the two places, on which ran 
cars pulled by horses. At another time it might 
have been possible to obtain permission to travel 
by this easy route ; but I found all Susa astir with 
the annual visit of the French Commander-in- 
Chief in Africa, a certain General Boulanger, who 
was going up to Kairwan on the same afternoon. 
I judged it better, therefore, not to intrude, but 
to content myself with the more humble native 
resources which I have described. 

The road, on leaving Susa, climbed to the sum- 
mit of the hill, which is crowned by the kasbah, or 
citadel, and then struck westwards over the almost 
level expanse. I have called it a " road," but it is 
only by an abuse of terms that it could be so 
designated, for it was merely a broad track which 
straggled at random across the desert, plunging 
over dried-up ditches and watercourses, beaten 
hard by the hoofs of camels and horses, and worn 
into agonising ruts by the wheels of waggons. It 



28 TALES OF TRAVEL 

traversed first a belt of olive orchards — ^many of 
the trunks as wizened and gnarled as the veterans 
of Gethsemane or the Academe — next a district 
growing barley and esparto grass, past the great 
marsh of Sidi El Hani and the tomb of the saint 
whose name it bears, and finally lost itself in the 
arid and herbless desert which is the threshold of 
the mighty Sahara. 

For miles before reaching my destination I had 
seen outlined against the purple of the remote 
hills a white streak, from the end of which sprang 
up a lofty tower. In the intense and palpitating 
heat this line appeared to quiver above the ground, 
and from time to time lost all semblance of reality. 
But as we drew nearer it gained form and dis- 
tinctness, and was soon discernible as the white- 
washed and battlemented wall of a purely oriental 
city. Above its crenelated summit gleamed a 
hundred minarets and cupolas and domes. The 
tall tower was the minaret of the Mosque of 
Okbar. I had reached the ojxcpaXo? yt}? of the de- 
vout Mussulman of Africa. 

As I approached the city walls I could see that 
something unusual was occurring. The mounds 
outside, which mark the ruins of vanished suburbs, 
were crowded with picturesque groups of natives, 
while in the plain below were gathered several 
hundred turbaned cavaliers in gorgeous accoutre- 
ments and streaming robes of white, some of them 
motionless and in serried formation, others dash- 
ing furiously to and fro, brandishing their weap- 
ons, and with tihe sharp points of their cruel shovel- 




[29 



THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 31 

stirrups making the beasts they bestrode execute 
wild curvets. These were the sheikhs and war- 
riors of the various Bedawin tribes, who were now 
in nominal subjection to the French, and had been 
summoned from far and near to do honour to the 
general. On the walls of the town, daubed in 
huge characters upon the staring plaster, I read 
the words — last affront to the defenceless old for- 
tress — Boulevard Boulanger. The general was 
evidently the hero of the hour. 

A little later he himself arrived — a smart figure, 
with close-cropped hair and pointed brown mous- 
tache and beard. Attended by a ghttering staff, 
he moimted a fine horse at a short distance from 
the terminus of the railway, and presently reviewed 
the native cavalry, whom he addressed in a highly 
laudatory speech, the pith of which was that they 
were the finest soldiers in the world, next to the 
French — a remark which, when transmitted to 
their imderstanding through an interpreter, was 
received with the liveliest marks of satisfaction. A 
display of equestrian skill on the part of the 
horsemen followed, and for long the space outside 
the walls was a bewildering scene of dust and gal- 
loping horses and shouting men. When night fell 
there succeeded the imbroken calm that reigns in 
an oriental city after simset. 

During the few days of my stay in Kairwan I 
saw the principal mosques and objects of interest. 
In order to effect this purpose it was necessary 
to be provided with a special permit from the 
French Commander. Prior to 1881 no Christian 



32 TALES OF TRAVEL 

had ever penetrated into the interior of a Kair- 
wanese mosque. The rare travellers who reached 
the town were either hastily conducted through the 
streets and bidden to depart, like Sir Grenville 
Temple in 1830, and Lord Waterford, who ten 
years later narrowly escaped being stoned, or were 
only tolerated within the walls so long as they 
made no attempt to intrude upon the sacred pre- 
cincts. This was the case with Sir W. Gregory 
in 1858, M. Victor Guerin in 1861, Mr. Rae in 
1876, and Lord and Lady Bective in 1881. When, 
however, the city capitulated without resistance to 
the French in October 1881, and was occupied by 
their troops, many persons profited by the early 
licence of victory to visit the hitherto inviolate 
shrines. Since then the permission had been 
wisely curtailed by the French, with whose ca- 
pacity for assimilation with the natives I was 
throughout my visit most agreeably impressed; 
and my hosts, certain Maltese who supplied the 
French army with forage and exported half a to 
England, informed me that leave was now by no 
means easy to obtain. 

As they were very much afraid of losing their 
own contract, and dared not approach the Gen- 
eral on my behalf, representing him as an austere 
man, given to count his talents, I called myself, 
and was civilly presented with the requisite order. 
Armed with this talismanic document, I visited the 
great Mosque of Okbar, and passed through the 
carven doors into the vast and darkened liwan, or 
prayer-chamber, with its two hundred interior 



THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 33 

columns and its forest of diverging aisles — a faint 
adumbration of the greater glories of Cordova — 
and stood in the mihrab, or prayer-niche, the holy 
of holies, where the kibleh points the worshipper's 
eye and guides his thoughts to the still more sacred 
East. I climbed the triple tower whence every 
morning and evening is waved the blood-red flag 
that calls the faithful to prayer, and from which 
is seen stretched out below the panorama of the 
seven-sided city with its countless cupolas and 
towers, its intricate alleys and terraced walls, to 
where beyond the gates extend the scattered 
suburbs and now decaying cemeteries of the dead. 
I saw the hallowed well of Kefayat^ or plenty, the 
waters of which communicate by subterranean 
channels with those of Zem-Zera at Mecca, as is 
conclusively proved by the fact that the drinking- 
eup of a pious pilgrim dropped into the Meccan 
font reappeared floating on the surface at Kair- 
wan. 

I saw too the mosque of the most recent 
marabout, or saint — Sidi Emir Abadah, who 
flourished only thirty years before, and who had 
such an influence over the then reigning Bey that 
he persuaded him to defray the cost of the seven- 
domed mosque that was to contain his remains 
after death, and was held in such veneration by 
the natives that four huge modern anchors, which 
repose in a courtyard outside, and which he trans- 
ported with infinite difficulty across the desert 
from the sea-coast near Tunis, were still believed 
by them, in deference to the holy man's explana- 



34. TALES OF TRAVEL 

tion, to be those which moored the Ark of Noah, 
after its long wanderings, to the soil of Ararat. 

Lastly, I came to the particularly sacred shrine 
of Sidi Sahab, or Sidi EF Owaib, My Lord the 
Companion, a disciple of Mohammed himself, 
who, dying at Kairwan in the seventh century, 
and leaving instructions that he should be interred 
with three hairs from his master's beard, which 
he always carried in a pouch upon his breast, had 
been appropriately transformed by local tradition 
into the barber of the Prophet. This mosque, 
which is, if possible, of even greater sanctity than 
that of Okbar, I had some difficulty in entering. 
The custodian, an acid and sulky Moslem, was 
strenuous in protest and fertile in excuse. The 
terms of my order stated that I was to be admitted 
to all or any of the mosques of Kairwan. This, 
he declared, was not a mosque but a zaouia, or col- 
lege; such an institution being, indeed, attached 
to the premises. When I overruled this objection, 
he was swift as lightning with another. The 
words of the order referred, he said, to mosques 
in Kairwan; this was outside the walls. I was 
obliged to put it very plainly to the cunning 
zealot whether he would prefer to admit me, with 
the prospect of a bakshish, or compel me to return 
at once and report his disobedience to the Com- 
mander. Whether it was the bribe or the menace 
that prevailed I do not know; anyhow, I gained 
my object, and was conducted through courts em- 
bellished with marble pillars and sparkling Sara- 
cenic tiles to the recess where stands the sacred 



THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 35 

sepulchre, fenced round with a grating of bronze, 
and covered with a pall of black velvet, embroid- 
ered with Arabic inscriptions in silver, while above 
depend thirteen silken banners, offerings of devo- 
tion from successive Beys. 

And now I come to that which was the main 
incident of my stay in Kairwan. One of the 
peculiar features of the place is the number of 
zaouiaSj or colleges of religious orders, which there 
exist. Of these fraternities, which have each a 
separate discipline and ritual, and number many 
thousand members, with corresponding branches 
in all parts of the Mussulman world, the most 
famous are those of the Zadria, Tijania, and 
Aissaouia; and of these three by far the most re- 
markable is the last. This sect of dervishes was 
founded by one Mahomet Ibn Aissa, a celebrated 
marabout of Mequinez, in Morocco; and his dis- 
ciples, who are scattered through all the principal 
coast-towns of North Africa, but are especially 
congregated at Mequinez and Kairwan, perpetu- 
ate his teaching, and open to themselves the gates 
of heaven, by self-mutilation when in a state of 
religious ecstasy or trance. Visitors at Bona, 
Constantine, and Algiers have sometimes, on pay- 
ment of a sufficient bakshish^ witnessed an emas- 
culated version of these rites, and have variously 
ascribed them to mercenary display or to skilful 
imposture. The latter has been, perhaps, the 
more popular interpretation, Englishmen being 
very reluctant to believe that any one will endure 
physical torture for the sake of religion, or still 



36 TALES OF TRAVEL 

more, that such tortures as those described could 
be inflicted, not only without injury to the patients 
themselves, but, as alleged, to their intense de- 
light. Aware of the number and importance of 
this sect at Kairwan, I was very anxious to wit- 
ness one of their zikrSj or services, and to form my 
own opinion. Unluckily, it appeared that I had 
just missed their weekly ceremonial, which had 
been held on the very evening before I arrived. 
A happy thought of one of my Maltese friends 
enabled me to rectify this mischance, and to sat- 
isfy my curiosity. 

In the morning as we were walking through the 
bazaars one of these gentlemen, who was of a 
humorous turn and who was interested in the suc- 
cess of my visit, introduced me to the native Gov- 
ernor of the city, a fine and portly Arab, as the 
son of General Boulanger. Though the general 
was a young-looking man, such a connection was 
in respect of years just within the bounds of pos- 
sibihty. Moreover, our arrivals in the town had 
coincided, and I had been seen in his company. 
Good or bad, the idea was greedily swallowed by 
the Governor; burning to testify his loyalty, he 
overwhelmed me with profuse courtesies, followed, 
as the day wore on, by frequent cups of coffee 
and many cigarettes. 

The genial credulity of the Arab supplied the 
very machinery that was wanted to arrange a per- 
formance of the Aissaouia. What could be more 
natural than that the son of the French general 
should wish to see the most distinctive spectacle 



THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 37 

of Kairwan? Such a petition might even be in- 
terpreted as a semi-official comphment to the 
Moslem faith. My Maltese friends were dehghted 
at the notion, and could not rest till they had paid 
a special visit to the sheikh, or mohaddem, of the 
sect, with the intimation that no less a personage 
than Boulanger fils was desirous of witnessing one 
of their famous celebrations. The sheikh was noth- 
ing loth, and accordingly it was arranged that on 
the same night at 9 p.m. I should be conducted to 
the sanctuary of Aissa. 

When the appointed hour arrived, I presented 
myself at the mosque, which is situated outside 
the city walls, not far from the Bab-el-Djuluddin, 
or Tanners' Gate. Passing through an open 
courtyard into the main building, I was received 
with a dignified salaam by the sheikh, who forth- 
with led me to a platform or divan at the upper 
end of the central space. This was surmounted 
by a ribbed and whitewashed dome, and was sepa- 
rated from two side aisles by rows of marble col- 
imins with battered capitals, dating from the 
Empire of Rome. Between the arches of the roof 
small and feeble lamps — ^mere lighted wicks float- 
ing on dingy oil in cups of coloured glass — ostrich 
eggs, and gilt balls were suspended from wooden 
beams. From the cupola in the centre hung a 
dilapidated chandelier in which flickered a few 
miserable candles. In one of the side aisles a 
plastered tomb was visible behind an iron lattice. 
The mise en scene was unprepossessing and 
squahd. 



38 TALES OF TRAVEL 

My attention was next turned to the dramatis 
personae. Upon the floor in the centre beneath 
the dome sat the musicians, ten or a dozen in 
number, cross-legged, the chief presiding upon a 
stool at the head of the circle. I observed no in- 
strument save the darahoohdh, or earthen drum, 
and a number of tambours, the skins of which, 
stretched tightly across the frames, gave forth, 
when struck sharply by the fingers, a hollow and 
resonant note. The rest of the orchestra was 
occupied by the chorus. So far no actors were 
visible. The remainder of the floor, both imder 
the dome and in the aisles, was thickly covered 
vrith seated and motionless figures, presenting in 
the fitful light a weird and fantastic picture. In 
all there must have been over a hundred persons, 
all males, in the mosque. 

Presently the sheikh gave the signal for com- 
mencement, and in a moment burst forth the 
melancholy chant of the Arab voices and the 
ceaseless droning of the drums. The song was not 
what we should call singing, but a plaintive and 
quavering wail, pursued in a certain cadence, now 
falling to a moan, now terminating in a shriek, but 
always pitiful, piercing, and inexpressibly sad. 
The tambours, which were struck like the key- 
board of a piano, by the outstretched fingers of 
the hand, and occasionally, when a louder note was 
required, by the thumb, kept up a monotonous 
refrain in the background. From time to time, at 
moments of greater stress, they were brandished 
high in the air and beaten with all the force of 



THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 39 

fingers and thumb combined. Then the noise was 
imperious and deafening. 

Among the singers, one grizzled and bearded 
veteran, with a strident and nasal intonation, sur- 
passed his fellows. He observed the time with 
grotesque inflections of his body; his eyes were 
fixed and shone with religious zeal. 

The chant proceeded, and the figures of the 
singers, as they became more and more excited, 
rocked to and fro. More people poured in at the 
doorway, and the building was now quite full. I 
began to wonder whether the musicians were also 
to be the performers, or when the latter would 
make their appearance. 

Suddenly a line of four or five Arabs formed 
itself in front of the entrance on the far side of 
the orchestra, and exactly opposite the bench on 
which I was sitting. They joined hands, the right 
of each clasped in the left of his neighbour, and 
began a lurching, swaying motion with their bodies 
and feet. At first they appeared simply to be 
marking time, first with one foot and then with 
the other; but the movement was gradually com- 
municated to every member of their bodies; and 
from the crown of the head to the soles of the feet 
they were presently keeping time with the music 
in convulsive jerks and leaps and undulations, the 
music itself being regulated by the untiring or- 
chestra of the drimis. 

This mysterious row of bobbing figures seemed 
to exercise an irresistible fascination over the 
spectators. Every moment one or other of these 



40 TALES OF TRAVEL 

left his place to join its ranks. They pushed their 
way into the middle, severing the chain for an 
instant, or joined themselves on to the ends. The 
older men appeared to have a right to the centre, 
the boys and children — for there were youngsters 
present not more than seven or eight years old — 
were on the wings. Thus the line ever lengthened; 
originally it consisted of three or four, presently 
it was ten or twelve, anon it was twenty-five or 
thirty, and before the self-torturings commenced 
there were as many as forty human figures 
stretching right across the building, and all rock- 
ing backwards and forwards in grim and ungrace- 
ful unison. Even the spectators who kept their 
places could not resist the contagion; as they sat 
there, they unconsciously kept time with their 
heads and shoulders, and one child swung his little 
head this way and that with a fury that threatened 
to separate it from his body. 

Meanwhile the music had been growing in in- 
tensity, the orchestra sharing the excitement which 
they communicated. The drummers beat their 
tambours with redoubled force, lifting them high 
above their heads and occasionally, at some ex- 
treme pitch, tossing them aloft and catching them 
again as they fell. Sometimes in the exaltation 
of frenzy they started spasmodically to their feet 
and then sank back into their original position. 
But ever and without a pause continued the in- 
sistent accompaniment of the drums. 

And now the oscillating line in front of the 
doorway for the first time found utterance. As 



THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 41 

they leaped high on one foot, alternately kicking 
out the other, as their heads wagged to and fro 
and their bodies quivered with the muscular strain, 
they cried aloud in praise of Allah. '' La ilaha ill 
Allah! " (There is no God but Allah) — ^this was 
the untiring burden of their strain. And then 
came " Ya Allah! " (O God) and sometimes " Ya 
Kahhar! " (O avenging God), " Ya Hakk! " (O 
just God), while each burst of clamorous appeal 
culminated in an awful shout of "Ya Hoo! " 
(O Him). 

The rapidity and vehemence of their gesticula- 
tions were now appalling; their heads swung back- 
wards and forwards till their foreheads almost 
touched their breasts, and their scalps smote 
against their backs. Sweat poured from their 
faces; they panted for breath; and the exclama- 
tions burst from their mouths in a thick and ster- 
torous murmur. Suddenly, and without warn- 
ing, the first phase of the zikr ceased, and the 
actors stood gasping, shaking, and dripping with 
perspiration. 

After a few seconds' respite the performance 
recommenced, and shortly waxed more furious 
than ever. The worshippers seemed to be gifted 
with an almost superhuman strength and energy. 
As they flung themselves to and fro, at one mo- 
ment their upturned faces gleamed with a sickly 
polish under the flickering lamps, at the next their 
turbaned heads all but brushed the floor. Their 
eyes started from the sockets; the muscles on their 
necks and the veins on their foreheads stood out 



42 TALES OF TRAVEL 

like knotted cords. One old man fell out of the 
ranks breathless, spent, and foaming. His place 
was taken by another, and the tmnultuous orgy 
went on. 

Presently, as the ecstasy approached its height 
and the fully initiated became melhoos, or pos- 
sessed, they broke from the stereotyped litany 
into demoniacal grinning and ferocious and bes- 
tial cries. These writhing and contorted objects 
were no longer rational human beings, but savage 
animals, caged brutes howling madly in the de- 
lirium of hunger or of pain. They growled like 
bears, they barked like jackals, they roared like 
lions, they laughed hke hyaenas; and ever and 
anon from the seething rank rose a diabolical 
shriek, like the scream of a dying horse, or the yell 
of a tortured fiend. And steadily the while in the 
background resounded the implacable reverbera- 
tion of the drums. 

The climax was now reached ; the requisite pitch 
of cataleptic inebriation had been obtained, and 
the rites of Aissa were about to begin. From the 
crowd at the door a wild figure broke forth, tore 
off his upper clothing till he was naked to the 
waist, and, throwing away his fez, bared a head 
close-shaven save for one long and dishevelled 
lock that, springing from the scalp, fell over his 
forehead like some grisly and funereal plume. A 
long knife, somewhat resembling a cutlass, was 
handed to him by the sheikh, who had risen to his 
feet and who directed the phenomena that ensued. 
Waving it wildly above his head and protruding 



THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 43 

the forepart of his figure, the fanatic brought it 
down blow after blow against his bared stomach, 
and drew it savagely to and fro against the un- 
protected skin. There showed the marks of a long 
and livid weal, but no blood spurted from the gash. 
In the intervals between the strokes he ran swiftly 
from one side to the other of the open space, tak- 
ing long stealthy strides like a panther about to 
spring, and seemingly so powerless over his own 
movements that he knocked blindly up against 
those who stood in his way, nearly upsetting them 
with the violence of the collision. 

The prowess or the piety of this ardent devotee 
proved extraordinarily contagious. First one and 
then another of his brethren caught the afflatus 
and followed his example. In a few moments 
every part of the mosque was the scene of some 
novel and horrible rite of self-mutilation, per- 
formed by a fresh aspirant to the favour of Allah. 
Some of these feats did not rise above the level 
of the curious but explicable performances which 
are sometimes seen upon English stages — e.g,, of 
the men who swallow swords, and carry enormous 
weights suspended from their jaws; achievements 
which are in no sense a trick or a deception, but 
are to be attributed to abnormal physical powers 
or structure developed by long and often perilous 
practice. In the Aissaiouian counterpart of these 
displays there was nothing specially remarkable, 
but there were others less commonplace and more 
difficult of explanation. 

Several long iron spits or prongs were produced 



44 TALES OF TRAVEL 

and distributed; these formidable implements were 
about two and a half feet in length, and sharply 
pointed, as they terminated at the handle in a cir- 
cular wooden knob about the size of a large 
orange. There was great competition for these 
instruments of torture, which were used as fol- 
lows. Poising one in the air, an Aissaioui would 
suddenly force the point into the flesh of his own 
shoulder in front just below the shoulder blade. 
Thus transfixed, and holding the weapon aloft, he 
strode swiftly up and down. Suddenly, at a sig- 
nal, he fell on his knees, still forcing the point into 
his body, and keeping the wooden head upper- 
most. Then there started up another disciple 
armed with a big wooden mallet, and he, after a 
few preliminary taps, rising high on tiptoe with 
uplifted weapon would, with an ear-splitting yell, 
bring it down with all his force upon the wooden 
knob, driving the point home through the shoulder 
of his comrade. Blow succeeded blow, the victim 
wincing beneath the stroke, but uttering no sound, 
and fixing his eyes with a look of ineffable delight 
upon his torturer, till the point was driven right 
through the shoulder and projected at the back. 
Then the patient marched backwards and for- 
wards with the air and the gait of a conquering 
hero. At one moment there were four of these 
semi-naked maniacs within a yard of my feet, 
transfixed and trembling, but beatified and trium- 
phant. And amid the cries and the swelter, there 
never ceased for one second the sullen and menac- 
ing vociferation of the drums. 



THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 45 

Another man seized an iron skewer, and, placing 
the point within his open jaws, forced it steadily 
through his cheek until it protruded a couple of 
inches on the outside. He barked savagely like 
a dog, and foamed at the lips. 

Others, afflicted with exquisite spasms of hun- 
ger, knelt down before the chief, whimpering like 
children for food, and turning upon him implor- 
ing glances from their glazed and blood-shot eyes. 
His control over his following was supreme. 
Some he gratified, others he forbade. At a touch 
from him they were silent and relapsed into 
quiescence. One maddened wretch who, fancying 
himself some wild beast, plunged to and fro, roar- 
ing horribly and biting and tearing with his teeth 
at whomever he met, was advancing, as I thought, 
with somewhat truculent intent in my direction 
when he was arrested by his superior and sent 
back cringing and cowed. 

For those whose ravenous appetites he was con- 
tent to humour the most singular repast was pre- 
pared. A plate was brought in, covered with huge 
jagged pieces of broken glass, as thick as a shat- 
tered soda-water bottle. With greedy chuckles 
and gurglings of delight one of the hungry ones 
dashed at it, crammed a handful into his mouth, 
and crunched it up as though it were some exqui- 
site dainty, a fellow-disciple calmly stroking the 
exterior of his throat, with intent, I suppose, to 
lubricate the descent of the imwonted morsels. A 
little child held up a snake or sand-worm by the 
tail, placing the head between his teeth, and 



46 TALES OF TRAVEL 

gulped it gleefully down. Several acolytes came 
in, carrying a big stem of the prickly pear, or fico 
d'lndiaj whose leaves are as thick as a one-inch 
plank, and are armed with huge projecting thorns. 
This was ambrosia to the starving saints; they 
rushed at it with passionate emulation, tearing at 
the solid slabs with their teeth, and gnawing and 
munching the coarse fibres, regardless of the 
thorns which pierced their tongues and cheeks as 
they swallowed them down. 

The most singular feature of all, and the one 
that almost defies beHef, though it is none the less 
true, was this^ — that in no case did one drop of 
blood emerge from scar, or gash, or wound. This 
fact I observed most carefully, the mohaddem 
standing at my side, and each patient in turn 
coming to him when his self-imposed tortm*e had 
been accomplished and the cataleptic frenzy had 
spent its force. It was the chief who cunningly 
withdrew the blade from cheek or shoulder or 
body, rubbing over the spot what appeared to me 
to be the saliva of his own mouth; then he whis- 
pered an absolution in the ear of the disciple and 
kissed him on the forehead, whereupon the patient, 
but a moment before writhing in maniacal trans- 
ports, retired tranquilly and took his seat upon 
the floor. He seemed none the wdyrse for his 
recent paroxysm, and the wound was marked only 
by a livid blotch or a hectic flush. 

This was the scene that for more than an hour 
went on without pause or intermission before my 
eyes. The building might have been tenanted by 



THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 47 

the Harpies or Laestrigones of Homer, or by- 
some inhuman monsters of legendary myth. Amid 
the dust and sweat and insufferable heat the 
naked bodies of the actors shone with a ghastly 
pallor and exhaled a sickening smell. The atmos- 
phere reeked with heavy and intoxicating fumes. 
Above the despairing chant of the singers rang the 
frenzied yells of the possessed, the shrieks of the 
hammerer, and the inarticulate cries, the snarling 
and growhng, the bellowing and miauling of the 
self-imagined beasts. And ever behind and 
through all re-echoed the perpetual and pitiless 
imprecation of the drums. 

As I witnessed the disgusting spectacle and lis- 
tened to the pandemonium of sounds, my head 
swam, my eyes became dim, my senses reeled, and 
I believe that in a few moments I must have 
fainted, had not one of my friends touched me on 
the shoulder, and, whispering that the mohaddem 
was desirous that I should leave, escorted me hur- 
riedly to the door. As I walked back to my 
quarters, and long after through the still night, 
the beat of the tambours continued, and I heard 
the distant hum of voices, broken at intervals by 
an isolated and piercing cry. Perhaps yet further 
and more revolting orgies were celebrated after 
I had left. I had not seen, as other travellers 
have done, the chewing and swallowing of red-hot 
cinders/ or the harmless handling and walking 



iFor an account of this exploit, vide Lane's Modern Egypticms, 
cap. XXV.; and compare the description of Richardson, the famous 
fire-eater, in Evelyn's Memoirs for October 8, 1672. 



48 TALES OF TRAVEL 

upon live coals. I had been spared that which 
others have described as the climax of the glut- 
tonous debauch, viz., the introduction of a live 
sheep, which then and there is savagely torn to 
pieces and devoured raw by these unnatural ban- 
queters. But I had seen enough, and as I sank 
to sleep my agitated fancy pursued a thousand 
avenues of thought, confounding in one grim 
medley all the carnivorous horrors of fact and 
fable and fiction. Loud above the din and discord 
the tale of the false prophets of Carmel, awakened 
by the train of association, rang in my ears, till I 
seemed to hear intoned with remorseless repetition 
the words, " They cried aloud and cut themselves 
after their manner with knives and lancets, till the 
blood gushed out upon them " ; and in the ever- 
receding distance of dreamland, faint and yet 
fainter, there throbbed the inexorable and unfal- 
tering deUrium of the drums. 

Years afterwards, when he was in retirement, 
and a little while before the melancholy catas- 
trophe that ended his life, I met General Bou- 
langer at a private house in London. The alert 
and springy figure and the blonde hair of the 
youthful general had been replaced by the in- 
creasing bulk and the grizzled beard of the middle- 
aged civilian, and he wore a more paternal aspect 
than when I had figured for a short time as his 
son. But I refrained from disclosing the fact 
that I had ever stood to him, even in masquerade, 
in a filial relationship, or that I owed to him my 
unforgettable experience of the drums of Kairwan. 



THE DRUMS OF KAIRWAN 49 

Perhaps the most comic feature of the tale re- 
mains to be told. At the time of my visit to 
Kairwan, I had just become a Member of Par- 
hament in England; and the story of my innocent 
deception appeared in some of the English news- 
papers. So good an opening for electioneering 
propaganda was not to be lost: and the Radical 
newspapers of my constituency did not hesitate to 
point out the fraudulent and unscrupulous nature 
of the individual to whom the truth-loving electors 
of Southport had been so foolish as to entrust their 
representation. Now it is all forgotten; and there 
only lingers in my memory like a faint echo from 
a shadowy distance the remote and melancholy 
pulsation of the drums of Kairwan, 



Two 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 



Two 
THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 

He civilised his people and himself remained a savage. 

Voltaire. 

One still strong man in a blatant land 
Who can rule and dare to lie. 

Tennyson, "Maud** (slightly adapted). 

I HAVE never before narrated the circum- 
stances in which I came to visit the capital 
and court of the famous Afghan ruler. Amir 
Abdur Rahman Khan. I had devoted so many- 
years to the study of the Central Asian problem — 
the security of the Indian frontier; the policy of 
Russia, then in the full tide of her career of 
Asiatic aggression and conquest ; the part that was 
being played in the drama by all the countries 
lying on the glacis of the Indian fortress, Persia, 
Baluchistan, Afghanistan, Tibet, China — and I 
had explored so many of these regions myself, 
that I was beyond measure desirous to visit that 
one of their number which, though perhaps the 
most important, was also the least accessible, and 
to converse with the stormy and inscrutable figure 
who occupied the Afghan throne, and was a source 
of such incessant anxiety, suspicion, and even 
alarm to successive Governments of India as well 
as to the India Office in London. 

63 



54 TALES OF TRAVEL 

I knew that the Amir was intensely mistrustful 
of the Calcutta Government, and I thought it not 
impossible that he might be willing to converse 
with*an Englishman who had been the Minister 
responsible for the Government of India in the 
House of Commons in London, who was still, 
though no longer in office, a member of that 
House, and who had for some years written and 
spoken widely, though always in a friendly spirit, 
about the defence of the Indian frontier, and the 
importance of intimate relations with Afghanistan. 
Accordingly in the spring of 1894 I wrote a per- 
sonal letter to the Amir, in which I confessed 
these desires, explained to him my impending 
programme of travel in the Himalayas and the 
Pamirs, and sought his permission to visit him at 
Kabul in the latter part of the year. 

After expatiating with more than Oriental 
hyperbole upon all these considerations, I added a 
passage in which I felt a modest pride: 

Khorasan I have seen and visited; I have been in 
Bokhara and Samarkand ; I have ridden to Chaman, and 
I have sojourned at Peshawur. But the dominions of 
Your Highness, which are situated in the middle of all 
these territories, like unto a rich stone in the middle of a 
ring, I have never been permitted to enter, and the person 
of Your Highness, which is in your own dominions like 
unto the sparkle in the heart of the diamond, I have not 
been fortunate enough to see. Many books and writings 
have I studied, and have talked to many men; but I 
would fain converse with Your Highness who knows more 
about these questions than do other men, and who will 



3:HE amir of AFGHANISTAN 55 

perhaps be willing to throw upon my imperfect under- 
standing the full ray of truth. 

Apart, however, from the hoped-for invitation 
from the Amir — never before extended to any 
Englishman except to those in his personal em- 
ploy, or to an official Mission from the Govern- 
ment of India, such as that of their Foreign Sec- 
retary, Sir Mortimer Durand — ^there were other 
and formidable difficulties to be overcome. The 
Home Government (Lord Kimberley was then 
Secretary of State for India) viewed my project 
with some anxiety ; the attitude of the Government 
of India was veiled in a chilly obscurity, which was 
not dissipated until I arrived at Simla in the early 
autimm to plead my own case. Sir Henry Brack- 
enbury, then Military Member, and a man of great 
ability and much imagination, was my one friend; 
the Commander-in-Chief, Sir George White, was 
noncommittal; the Viceroy, Lord Elgin, hesi- 
tated. At a meeting of the Executive Council, 
however, it was decided to let me cross the fron- 
tier (on my return from the Pamirs), provided 
that a direct invitation from the Amir arrived in 
the interim; but I was told that I must go as a 
private individual (which was exactly what I de- 
sired), and that the Government of India would 
assume no responsibility for my safety. 

It was while I was in camp in the Gurais val- 
ley in Kashmir, on my way to the Gilgit fron- 
tier, that I received a telegram from Kabul an- 
nouncing the invitation of the Amir. From that 



56 TALES OF TRAVEL 

moment all my anxieties were at an end, and it 
remained only for me to get through my Pamir 
explorations in safety in order to realise my su- 
preme ambition in the later autumn. Nearly three 
months later, on November 13, 1894, I rode alone 
across the Afghan Frontier at Torkham beyond 
Lundi Khana, and consigned myself to the care 
of the God-Granted Government, and to the hos- 
pitality of its Sovereign. 

And now let me say something about the per- 
sonality and career of that remarkable man, so 
that my readers, to whom his name is perhaps now 
little more than a memory, may know what sort 
of being it was with whom I was about to spend 
long days in friendly intercourse, and who was to 
reveal to me, with an astonishing candour, his 
innermost thoughts and ideas. 

Bom in 1844, Abdur Rahman Khan was the 
eldest son of Dost Mohanmied, the celebrated 
Afghan ruler who had been alternately the foe 
and the protege of the British Government. He 
was therefore by birth and inheritance the direct 
and legal heir of his grandfather, and the recog- 
nised head of the Barukzai clan. It may be a con- 
solation to reluctant students and to naughty boys 
at large to know, as the Amir himself told me, 
that up till the age of twenty he declined to learn 
either to read or to write, and that at a time when 
most European lads have their knees imder a desk 
he was engaged in manufacturing rifled gun- 
barrels and in casting guns. It was in 1864, the 
year following upon the death of the Dost, that 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 57 

he first appeared in public life, being appointed 
to a Governorship in Afghan Turkestan; and 
after that date there were few elements of ro- 
mance or adventure that his career did not con- 
tain. Here victorious in battle (for he was a 
born soldier), there defeated; now a king-maker 
in his own country, anon a fugitive from its bor- 
ders ; for a time the powerful Governor of the Cis- 
Oxian provinces, and presently^ an exile in the 
courts of Meshed, Khiva, and Bokhara; later on 
a pensioner of the Russians at Samarkand, and, 
finally, the British nominee upon the throne of a 
recovered Afghanistan, for nearly forty years, 
whether in the forefront or the background, he 
presented the single strong figure whose mascu- 
line individuality emerged with distinctness from 
the obscure and internecine and often miserable 
drama of Afghan politics. 

It was he who placed, first his father Afzul, and 
afterwards his uncle Azim, on the throne; and 
when, Afzul having died and Azim having been 
defeated by a younger brother, Shere Ali, he was 
obliged to flee from his country into a ten years' 
exile, it was with the conviction, which he never 
abandoned, that his services would again be called 
for and that he would assuredly return. 

For this purpose he accepted a Russian pen- 
sion (the greater part of which was, he told me, 
systematically filched from him by peculation) 
and resided at Samarkand, in order that he might 
be near to the Afghan frontier whenever the 
emergency should arise. The Russians never quite 



58 TALES OF TRAVEL 

recovered from their astonishment that one who 
had been a recipient of their hospitahty and their 
pay should, in later years, after recovering the 
throne, have pursued a policy so little in accord 
with Russian aspirations; and for a while they 
consoled themselves with the reflection that this 
was a mere ruse, and that the true Russophil 
would appear later on. These expectations were 
sadly disappointed; for although he did not care 
for the British much, Abdur Rahman disliked the 
Russians far more, and had a very shrewd idea of 
the fate that a Russo- Afghan alliance would bring 
upon his country. Incidentally, he told me that 
while a refugee in Russia he secretly learned the 
language, and never enjoyed himself more than 
when he heard the Russian officers discussing their 
real policy in the presence of the seemingly 
simple-minded and unsophisticated Afghan. 

In 1878 his opportunity came, when Shere Ali, 
inveigled by Russian promises to his doom, threw 
off the British alliance, and brought a British 
army into his country, thereby forfeiting first his 
throne, and, a little later, his life. Crossing the 
frontier, Abdur Rahman overran the whole coun- 
try, and by 1880 had acquired so commanding a 
position that when, after the treachery of Yakub 
Khan and the open hostility of Ayub, the Indian 
Government were looking out for a suitable can- 
didate for the throne, they had no alternative but 
to take the single strong man in the country, 
whom they forthwith installed as ruler, and then 
retired. 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 59 

In the thirteen years that elapsed before my 
visit the Amir had consoHdated his rule over one 
of the most turbulent people in the world by force 
alike of character and of arms, and by a relentless 
savagery that ended by crushing all opposition 
out of existence, and leaving him the undisputed 
but dreaded master of the entire country. No 
previous sovereign had ever ridden the wild 
Afghan steed with so cruel a bit, none had given 
so large a measure of unity to the kingdom; there 
was not in Asia or in the world a more fierce or 
uncompromising despot. Such was the remark- 
able man whose guest I was for more than a fort- 
night at Kabul, living in the Salam Khana or 
Guest House, immediately overlooking the moat 
of the Ark or Citadel. The Amir was residing in 
a neighbouring two-storied house or villa, sur- 
rounded by a high wall, and known as the Bostan 
Serai. In the grounds of this place he now lies 
buried. Our meetings and conversations took 
place in a large room in that building. They 
usually commenced at noon or 1 p.m. and lasted 
for some hours. 

I do not propose to narrate here the long con- 
versations, mainly of a political character, in 
which the Amir indulged, because, as I have be- 
fore said, I do not wish this volume to become a 
pohtical treatise, and because much of what he 
said was intended to be confidential. Later on, 
however, I shall narrate one of his most charac- 
teristic harangues about his impending visit to 
England, the invitation to which he accepted 



60 TALES OF TRAVEL 

through me, since it reveals many of the most in- 
teresting traits of his shrewd but imtutored intel- 
lect. In the intervals, however, of these quasi- 
political conversations the Amir would talk dis- 
cursively about almost every topic under heaven; 
while, during my stay, I heard many anecdotes of 
his curious character and amazing career. 

Perhaps before I come to these I may say a few 
words about his external appearance and mien. 
A man of big stature though not of great height, 
of colossal personal strength, and of correspond- 
ing stoutness of frame when in his prime, he was 
much altered by sickness when I saw him from 
the appearance presented, for instance, by the 
photographs taken at the Rawal Pindi Durbar in 
1885. The photograph that I reproduce repre- 
sents him as he was at the time of my visit in 
1894. He suffered greatly from gout, and one of 
the favourite amusements or jests of the native 
compositor in the Indian Press was to convert 
" gout " into " government " and to say, not with- 
out truth, that the Amir was suffering from "a 
bad attack of government." 

A large, but in no wise unwieldy figure sitting 
upright upon silken quilts, outspread over a low 
charpoy, or bedstead, the limbs encased in close- 
fitting lamb's wool garments; a fur-lined pelisse 
hanging over the shoulders, and a spotless white 
silk turban wound round the conical Afghan 
skull-cap of cloth of silver, or of gold, and com- 
ing low down on to the forehead; a broad and 
jnassive countenance with regular features, but 




AMIR ABDUR RAHMAN KHAN 



[61 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 63 

complexion visibly sallow from recent illness; 
brows that contracted somewhat as he reflected 
or argued; luminous black eyes that looked out 
very straightly and fixedly without the slightest 
movement or wavering, a black moustache close 
clipped upon the upper lip, and a carefully 
trimmed and dyed black beard, neither so long 
nor so luxuriant as of yore, framing a mouth 
that responded to every expression, and which, 
when it opened, as it not unfrequently did, to 
loud laughter, widened at the corners and dis- 
closed the full line of teeth in both jaws; a voice 
resonant but not harsh, and an articulation of sur- 
prising emphasis and clearness ; above all, a manner 
of unchallengeable dignity and command — this was 
the outward guise and bearing of my kingly host. 
I may add that for stating his own case in an 
argument or controversy the Amir would not easily 
find a match on the front benches in the House 
of Commons; whilst if he began to talk of his 
own experiences and to relate stories of his ad- 
ventures in warfare or exile, the organised minute- 
ness and deliberation with which each stage of the 
narrative proceeded in due order was only equalled 
by the triumphant crash of the climax, and only 
exceeded by the roar of laughter which the 
denouement almost invariably provoked from the 
audience, and in which the author as heartily 
joined. Like most men trained in the Persian 
literary school (Persian being the language of the 
upper classes in Afghanistan), the Amir was a 
constant quoter of saws and wise sayings from 



64 TALES OF TRAVEL 

that inexhaustible well of sapient philosophy, that 
Iranian Pope, the Sheikh Saadi. 

The Amir's appearance, like that of most Ori- 
entals, was greatly enhanced by his turban. I 
never saw him in the sheepskin koldh or kalpak 
of his military uniform. On one occasion when 
we were talking about his visit to England he 
removed his turban and began to scratch his head, 
which was shaved quite bald. In a moment he 
was transformed from the formidable despot to 
a commonplace and elderly man. I implored him 
when he came to London never to remove his tur- 
ban or scratch his head ; and, when I told him my 
reason, his vanity was at once piqued, and he prom- 
ised faithfully to show himself at his best. 

His characteristics were in some respects even 
more remarkable than his features. This terribly 
cruel man could be affable, gracious, and consid- 
erate to a degree. This man of blood loved scents 
and colours and gardens and singing birds and 
flowers. This intensely practical being was a prey 
to mysticism, for he thought that he saw dreams 
and visions, and was convinced (although this was 
probably only a symptom of his vanity) that he 
possessed supernatural gifts. Generous to those 
who were useful to him, he was merciless to any 
whose day was past or who had lost his favour. 
But even in the most unpropitious circumstances 
his humour never deserted him. At one of his 
country durbars certain tax-gatherers were dis- 
puting with the local landowners as to the taxes 
to be paid. As they all insisted on speaking at 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 65 

once, he placed a soldier behind each of them with 
orders to box the ears of any; man who spoke out 
of his turn. 

On one occasion he put a man to death unjustly, 
i.e. J, on false evidence. Thereupon he fined him- 
self 6000 rupees, and paid this sum to the widow, 
who for her part was delighted at being simul- 
taneously relieved of her husband and started again 
in life. 

On another occasion his humour took a more 
gruesome turn. It was pointed out to him by 
one of his courtiers that he had ordered an inno- 
cent man to be hung. "Innocent!" cried the 
Amir. "Well, if he is not guilty this time, he* 
has done something else at another. Away with 
him." 

' In this strange and almost incredible amalgam 
of the jester and the cynic, the statesman and the 
savage, I think that a passion for cruelty was one 
of his most inveterate instincts. The Amir often 
exerted himself to deny the charge or claimed that 
it was the only method of dealing with a race so 
treacherous and criminally inclined. For instance, 
as I rode to Kabul, I passed on the top of the 
Lataband Pass an iron cage swinging from a tall 
pole in which rattled the bleaching bones of a 
robber whom he had caught and shut up alive in 
this construction, as a warning to other disturbers 
of the peace of the King's highway. He revelled 
in these grim demonstrations of executive author- 
ity. Nevertheless, the recorded stories — as to the 
truth of which I satisfied myself — were sufficient 



66 TALES OF TRAVEL 

to show that a love of violence and an ingrained 
ferocity were deeply rooted in his nature. He 
confided to an Englishman at Kabul that he had 
put to death 120,000 of his own people. After one 
unsuccessful rebellion he had many thousands of 
the guilty tribesmen blinded with quicklime, and 
spoke to me of the punishment without a trace of 
compunction. Crimes such as robbery or rape 
were punished with fiendish severity. Men were 
blown from guns, or thrown down a dark well, 
or beaten to death, or flayed alive, or tortured in 
the offending member. For instance, one of the 
favourite penalties for petty larceny was to ampu- 
tate the hand at the wrist, the raw stump being 
then plunged in boiling oil. One official who had 
outraged a woman was stripped naked and placed 
in a hole dug for the purpose on the top of a 
high hill outside Kabul. It was in mid-winter; 
and water was then poured upon him until he 
was converted into an icicle and frozen alive. As 
the Amir sardonically remarked, " He would never 
be too hot again." 

A woman of his harem being found in the fam- 
ily way, he had her tied up in a sack and brought 
into the Durbar hall, where he ran her through 
with his own sword. Two men having been heard 
to talk about some forbidden subject, he ordered 
their upper and lower lips to be stitched together 
so that they should never offend again. A man 
came into the Durbar one day and openly accused 
the Amir of depravity and crime. " Tear out his 
tongue," said the Amir. In a moment he was 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 67 

seized and his tongue torn out by the roots. The 
poor wretch died. One day an old beggar threw 
himself in the way of the Amir as he was riding 
through the streets. The following dialogue then 
ensued: " What are you? " " A beggar." " But 
how do you get your hving?" "By alms." 
" What? Do you mean to say that you do no 
work?" "None." "And you have never done 
any? " " Never." " Then it is time that we were 
reheved of your presence." And the Amir nodded 
to the executioner. 

His cruelty even extended to punishing acts, 
however innocent, which had not been authorised 
by himself or which seemed to trench upon his 
prerogative. Though I was his guest and he sin- 
cerely desired to do me honour, and did so, he 
could not tolerate that any of his subjects should 
show spontaneous courtesy to the stranger. A 
man who spoke to me while I was on the road 
to Kabul was seized and thrown into prison. A 
man who offered me a pomegranate as I rode into 
Kandahar was severely beaten and imprisoned and 
deprived of his property. 

Nevertheless, this monarch, at once a patriot 
and a monster, a great man and almost a fiend, 
laboured hard and unceasingly for the good of 
his country. He sought to raise his people from 
the squalor and apathy and blood-shedding of their 
normal lives and to convert them into a nation. 
He welded the Afghan tribes into a unity which 
they had never previously enjoyed, and he paved 
the way for the complete independence which his 



68 TALES OF TRAVEL 

successors have achieved. He and he alone was 
the Government of Afghanistan. There was noth- 
ing from the command of an army or the govern- 
ment of a province to the cut of a uniform or 
the fabrication of furniture that he did not per- 
sonally superintend and control. He was the brain 
and eyes and ears of all Afghanistan. But it is 
questionable whether in the latter part of his life 
he was more detested or admired. He ceased to 
move abroad from fear of assassination, and six 
horses, saddled and laden with coin, were always 
kept ready for a sudden escape. 

I should describe him, on the whole, in spite 
of his uncertain temper and insolent language, as 
a consistent friend of the British alliance. Though 
he often had differences with the Government of 
India, whom he loved to snub and annoy, though 
there were moments when the relations between 
them were very strained, though, when I became 
Viceroy, he did not spare me these conventional 
amenities and we were sometimes on the verge 
of a serious quarrel, I did not and do not doubt 
that on the broad issues of imperial policy his 
fidelity was assured. But he acted in this respect, 
as in all others, from expediency alone. He knew 
that the British neither coveted nor desired to 
annex his country. As an independent sovereign 
he was compelled, for the sake of appearances with 
his own people, to exhibit a truculence that was 
often offensive and at times insupportable. But 
at a crisis it was to British advice and British arms 
that he invariably turned. His name will always 









J^'^ 



..♦^--4. 



_J^^^^ 



















THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 69 

deserve to rank high in the annals of his own coun- 
try as well as in the history of the Indian Empire. 

Among the devices that he adopted in order to 
stimulate the patriotism and ensure the due sub- 
ordination of his people and incidentally to render 
them more amenable to military conscription, was 
the issue of a map, accompanied by a proclama- 
tion which was read out in the bazaars and mosques 
of all the principal towns and posted in every 
village. As this map, however viewed, is quite 
unlike any other map that I have ever seen, I give 
a small-scale reproduction of it here. My original 
copy, printed on canvas, measures 5 feet by 4I/2 
feet. 

The proclamation was even more remarkable 
than the map, which indeed stands in some need 
of explanation. It was in the nature of a lecture, 
invested with all the authority of a royal firman, 
or decree. I will quote a few passages from it. 

I have now prepared for you a kind of map, which 
shows the condition of Afghanistan as compared with 
that of its surrounding countries. This I have done in 
order to enable you to study the matter attentively and 
to make out a path for yourselves in such a way that 
good may accrue both to your country and to your 
religion. I am hopeful that a careful study of this map 
will suffice for your prosperity and happiness both in this 
world and the next. 

In entering into the details of this map, I hereby 
declare that whatever has been predestined by the 
Almighty for each one of you, the same has been put 
into the heart of your King, and he is thus enabled to 



70 TALES OF TRAVEL 

find suitable appointments for all. Some of you have 
attained to the rank of a Commander-in-Chief, while 
others are stiU in the position of a sepoy. It is, however, 
fitting for you all to offer thanks to God and to your 
King, and to be contented with your lot. You should 
not be envious of those who hold higher rank than your- 
selves, but you should rather look to those who are 
inferior. By doing so you will gain three benefits — first, 
the favour and blessing of God, for it is written that " if 
you express your gratitude for the blessings poured forth 
upon you, the same shall be increased '^ ; secondly, the 
approbation and good will of your ruler; and thirdly, 
you will thus be enabled to hold your present position in 
the sure hope of obtaining advancement. For God has 
said, that if you offer thanks for His blessings He will 
increase them. The increase of blessings signifies the 
exaltation of rank. All blessings in this world depend 
upon the exaltation of position, and when a man's rank 
is increased he can then only be said to have obtained 
the blessings of this world. But if you are not contented 
with your present state and neglect to offer your thanks 
to God, and do not look to those who are inferior to 
you in position, but rather envy those who are above 
you, and ask in your hearts why such and such persons 
are superior to yourselves, you lay the foundation of 
envy and hatred, and cause many calamities to fall upon 
you. 

Therefore, take care and listen to me, who am your 
King, with all your heart, and weigh well what I say, 
for it is of no use to make lamentations for that which 
has past and gone. This advice is for all, from the 
Commander-in-Chief down to the sepoy, and also for the 
subjects, who are inferior to all, and for those who carry 
guns on their shoulders. A sepoy should look upon the 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 71 

subjects, who are inferior to him, as members of his own 
society, for it is with the help of God and by the kindness 
of the King that he has obtained his rank. You should 
sympathise with the subjects, who are your own tribes- 
men and who are continually employed in cultivating 
their lands, in cutting their crops, in thrashing their 
corn, in gathering in the harvests and in winnowing the 
wheat from the chaff. They are also occupied in trade 
and undergo hardships and troubles by night and by 
day, and only enjoy a portion of the produce themselves 
after they have paid in the taxes which are necessary for 
the expenses of the State. I, who am your King, spend 
all this money on the army. It therefore behoves you 
all, whether you are men in high places or sepoys or 
subjects, to be grateful, because all that you pay is given 
back to your brothers, sons and tribesmen. By this God 
is ^pleased, religion flourishes and honour is preserved. 
In a like manner, the subjects should also be grateful, so 
that God's blessings may increase day by day, for it is 
written, that on him who is grateful He increases his 
bounties. It is therefore incumbent on you to be grateful 
both to God and to your King. 

The real object of my teaching is that the kindness 
and compassion of the King towards his subjects re- 
semble the feelings of a father towards his son; and as 
it is natural that a father should be kind to his son, so 
it is also natural that the King should be kind to his 
subjects. These are also the orders of God to the King. 
But when the father sees the errors of his son, he ad- 
monishes and punishes him. Now this punishment is not 
due to ill-feeling, but rather to the excessive love which 
the father bears towards his son, so that he cannot even 
bear the sight of any wrong-doings on the part of his son ; 
in the same way the King has the same feelings towards 



72 TALES OF TRAVEL 

his subjects as a father has towards his son. The King 
only wishes to spread the blessings of tranquillity and 
peace among his subjects and to gain a good name 
thereby. When a boy is young and ignorant, he hates 
and despises the advice of his father, but when he 
becomes of age and becomes endued with wisdom and 
intellect, he considers that there is none so kind and 
affectionate as his father, and it is the whole purport and 
desire of his life to obey the orders of his father. In the 
same way, I, the ruler of you Afghans, have the same 
desire of being kind and generous to you, even as a father 
is kind and generous to his son. If you are wise enough 
to understand and benefit by my advice, I am confident 
that you will see that your religion will flourish and 
that your country will be prosperous. May it so please 
God. 

Considering the manner, as already described, 
in which Abdur Rahman Khan was in the habit 
of demonstrating his paternal love for his subjects, 
the latter, if they had one-thousandth part of the 
sense of humour of their sovereign, must have 
smiled somewhat grimly as they listened to this 
sermon. 

One of the subjects that interested the Amir 
most was his claim, on behalf of himself and of 
his people, to a descent from the Lost Tribes of 
Israel. I had heard of this theory; and I had 
noted the distinct resemblance of many Afghan 
features to the Semitic type. But when I inter- 
rogated him about it, he unhesitatingly proclaimed 
his acceptance of the legend. He declared that 
the Afghans took their name from Afghana, who 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 73 

was Commander-in-Chief to King Solomon; some 
were descended from him, and others from Jere- 
miah the son of Saul.^ On another occasion the 
Amir's eldest son Habibulla, whose ethnology was 
a little hazy, told me that the Afghans were Jews 
who had been conquered by Babu-Nassar (e.^.^ 
Nebuchadnezzar) in the time of Yezdigird, and 
deported to Persia, where they lived a long time. 
Later on they migrated to Afghanistan, where 
they settled in the region of the Suleiman (Solo- 
mon) Moimtains, to which, in reference to their 
origin, they gave that name. As a matter of fact, 
the Hebrew descent of the Afghans has been the 
subject of prolonged dispute, great authorities 
having argued on either side. The champions of 
the theory point to the marked Jewish features 
of so many Afghans, to the great number of Jew- 
ish Christian names {e.g., Ibrahim = Abraham, 
Ayub = Job, Ismail — Ishmael, Ishak = Isaac, 
Yahia =■ John, Yakub = Jacob, Yusuf = Joseph, 
Isa = Jesus, Daoud = David, Suleiman = Solo- 
mon, and many others), to the fact that the Feast 
of the Passover is still observed by the Pathan 
border tribe of the Yusuf zai; and to the occur- 
rence of the name Kabul in the Old Testament 
{e.g. J 1 Kings ix. 13), where Solomon, having 
given King Hiram twenty cities of Galilee in re- 
turn for the timber and gold presented to him for 
the Temple, Hiram went out to see them and 



1 This is the conventional account given in the best-known Pushtu 
history, called Tazkirat ul-Muluk, which was composed in the time of 
the early Duranis, who probably invented the legend. 



74 TALES OF TRAVEL 

was very much disgusted, " calling them the land 
of Kabul {i,e,j dirty or disgusting) unto this day." 
I believe that this reasoning is quite fallacious, 
the biblical names employed by the Afghans be- 
ing all in their Arabic form, i.e,, post-Mohammedan 
in origin; and the Hebrew word Kabiil in the Old 
Testament having no connection, except in spell- 
ing, with the Afghan Kabul. The theory of a 
Semitic origin is now generally discredited, but 
there is nothing inherently improbable in the be- 
lief that some of the Afghan tribes may have en- 
tered the country from Persia (of which language 
they speak a patois) and may have come at an 
earlier date into Persia from Syria or Assyria 
(the land of the captivity). There I will leave 
the matter, to which I have only alluded here in 
order to record the opinions of the Amir. 

And now, having given a general picture of the 
man, his personality and his acts, let me pass on 
to narrate a few of the more interesting conversa- 
tions, other than on political subjects, with which 
he overflowed. He spoke in Persian through an 
interpreter; and while at times he would indulge 
in short and staccato phrases, at others he would 
pour forth a torrent of declamation that lasted for 
six or seven minutes without a pause. 

Never was the mixture of shrewdness, vanity, 
and ignorance, which were so strangely blended in 
Abdur Rahman's character, more patently shown 
than in the conversation which he held with me 
one day in open Durbar with regard to his con- 
templated visit to England. He had already re- 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 75 

ceived an official invitation from Her Majesty's 
Government, tendered through the Viceroy (Lord 
Elgin) to pay such a visit, and to this invitation, 
with calculated rudeness, he had declined for 
months to return a reply. I had good reason for 
thinking that he was postponing his answer until 
I arrived at Kabul, and he could hear from me 
personally what sort of reception he would be 
likely to meet with in London. From the start, 
accordingly, this formed a constant topic of our 
conversation; and I very soon realised that, while 
appearing to hang back, the Amir was in reality 
intensely anxious to come, provided, on the one 
hand, that he could be assured of a welcome in 
England compatible with his own exalted concep- 
tion of the dignity and prestige of the Afghan 
Sovereign, and, on the other, that he could safely 
be absent from his country for several months of 
time. He would discuss these subjects with me 
interminably in all their bearings, being in reality 
much more concerned about the former than the 
latter. At length, towards the end of my visit, 
his mind was made up; the decision to pay the 
visit was definitely taken; the acceptance was 
written, in the form of a personal letter to Queen 
Victoria, which the Amir handed to me in open 
Durbar, wrapped up in a violet silk covering, em- 
broidered with a Persian inscription. This parcel 
I took back to England and ultimately transmitted 
to Her Majesty: and unquestionably the visit 
would have taken place had not the Amir learned 
a little later on that, had he left his country, the 



76 TALES OF TRAVEL 

chances were that, in consequence of the reign of 
terror that prevailed under his iron hand, he would 
never be allowed to return, and that in his absence 
some less fierce and dreaded occupant would be 
installed upon the Afghan throne. 

It was in the ^course of one of these public con- 
versations that the following dialogue occurred — 
to understand which it should be premised that 
the one Englishman against whom the Amir cher- 
ished an overweening, though entirely unfounded, 
prejudice was Lord Roberts (then Commander- 
in-Chief in England), whom he was never tired 
of accusing of having condemned and hung, by- 
bought and perjured evidence, many thousands of 
innocent Afghans upon the arrival of the British 
army in Kabul after the murder of Sir L. Cavag- 
nari in 1879.^ This monarch, who had not hesi- 
tated himself, as he boasted to me, to put out the 
eyes of thousands of his own subjects (after the 
Hazara rebellion) , and who was utterly indifferent 
to human life, had no words of reprobation too 
strong for the British commander, who had dared 
to punish a gross act of international treachery 
by the execution of the guilty parties ; and he would 
constantly repeat that Roberts had killed thou- 
sands of innocent Afghan people and could never 
be forgiven. Hence the ensuing story: 



1 These charges against the findings of the Military Court at 
Kabul, and the consequent executions, having been taken up and 
repeated by the Opposition in London, the answer of Lord Roberts 
was read in both Houses of Parliament. His full reply, with an 
abstract statement of the executions, was published as a Parlia- 
mentary Paper in February, 1880. 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 77 

A, " When I come to England and to London 
and am received by the Queen, shall I tell you 
what I will do?" 

C. "Yes, Your Highness, I shall be glad to 
hear." 

-4. " I understand that there is in London a 
great hall that is known as Westminster Hall. 
Is not that so?" 

a " It is.'* 

A. " There are also in London two Mejilises 
{Le,, Houses of Parliament). One is called the 
House of Lords and the other is called the House 
of Commons ? " 

C. " It is so." 

A. "When I come to London, I shall be re- 
ceived in Westminster Hall. The Queen will be 
seated on her throne at the end of the hall, and 
the Royal Family will be around her; and on either 
side of the hall will be placed the two Mejilises — 
the House of Lords on the right, and the House 
of Commons on the left. Is not that the 
case?" 

C. " It is not our usual plan; hut will Your 
Highness proceed?" 

A, "I shall enter the hall, and the Lords will 
rise on the right, and the Commons will rise on 
the left to greet me, and I shall advance between 
them up the hall to the dais, where will be seated 
the Queen upon her throne. And she will rise 
and will say to me, ' What has Your Majesty come 
from Kabul to say?' And how then shall I 
reply?" 



78 TALES OF TRAVEL 

C " I am sure I do not know." 

A. "I shall reply: 'I will say nothing' — and 
the Queen will then ask me why I refuse to say 
anything; and I shall answer: ' Send for Roberts. 
I decline to speak until Roberts comes.' And then 
they will send for Roberts, and there will be a 
pause until Roberts comes, and when Roberts has 
come and is standing before the Queen and the 
two Mejilises, then will I speak." 

C. "And what will Your Highness say?" 

^. " I shall tell them how Roberts paid thou- 
sands of rupees to obtain false witness at Kabul 
and that he slew thousands of my innocent people, 
and I shall ask that Roberts be punished, and when 
Roberts has been punished, then will I speak." 

It was in vain that I indicated to the Amir that 
things in England and in London were not done 
exactly in that way, and that the ceremonial of 
his reception would hardly be of the nature de- 
scribed. Nothing could convince him. This was 
no doubt exactly the manner in which he would 
have managed the business in Kabul; and London 
meant no more to him than a larger stage and a 
change of scene. 

When I reflected what might have happened 
had the visit been paid and had the Amir been 
confronted with the more sober realities of British 
official procedure, I felt almost glad that Her 
Majesty's Government were spared the spectacle 
of the Amir's disappointment and its consequences, 
which might have been serious; although the per- 
sonal encounter between the two protagonists, hacj 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 79 

it ever taken place, could hardly have failed to be 
diverting. 

The only person in England who, when I re- 
counted the story, failed to find it at all amusing 
— and this perhaps quite pardonably — was Lord 
Roberts himself. 

Knowing that I was a member of Parliament 
the Amir never spoke to me contemptuously, 
though often with a touch of sarcasm, about the 
House of Commons. But to others he was less 
reticent. On one occasion he told an Englishman 
in his service that he ought to go to the public 
hammam (Turkish Bath) in Kabul in order to see 
what in the Amir's opinion the British Parliament 
must be like. The Englishman duly went, and 
soon discovered what the Amir had in mind, for 
the place was full of men, and the high dome over- 
head reverberated with their calls for towels, soap, 
etc., and their usual loud-voiced conversations, un- 
til the meaning of any individual words and the 
words themselves were lost in the confusion of 
sounds and only added to the general uproar. 

Among other curious illustrations of the Amir's 
colossal, but childish, vanity I recall the following. 
He cherished the illusion, which was warmly en- 
couraged by all the courtiers who were in the 
Durbar hall, that he had a monopoly of all the 
talents and was the universal genius of Afghanis- 
tan, particularly in all matters of mechanics and 
the arts. 

One day, as I was going to the Durbar, I passed 
through an ante-chamber in which was standing 



80 TALES OF TRAVEL 

a superb grand piano, evidently a fresh importa- 
tion from Europe, the case of which was exquisitely- 
painted with pictorial subjects or scenes. I was 
told — though this was probably untrue — that the 
artist or designer had been no less a person than 
Sir E. Burne- Jones. 

A. " Did you notice the grand piano standing 
in the adjoining chamber as you came in? " 

C. " Yes, I did." 

A. " What did you think of the painting of the 
case?" 

C. " I thought it magnificent." 

A, " I painted it myself! " 

The other case was this. One day I was a little 
late in attending the Durbar, my watch having 
stopped in the morning. 

A. " Why are you late to-day? " 

C " I am sorry to ^say that my watch stopped 
this morning." 

A. " And yours is an English watch. Send it 
to me, and I will put it right without difficulty. 
I am a professional watch-maker myself and keep 
right the watches of all the people of Kabul! " 

I hastily explained that my watch had resumed 
its full and orderly functions, and accordingly was 
able to save it from the hands of the illustrious 
amateur. 

I may here anticipate somewhat by giving an- 
other example of this amusing trait. After I had 
returned to England I married in the summer of 
1895, and sent a photograph of my wife to the 
Amir, who responded with a handsome present. 



1 




»tiR£?<S«GSS^^^^^ffSJ(g«C£?*iiia^^ 


















SIGNED LETTEK FROM AMIR ABDXTR RAHMAN KHAN. 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 81 

But, as the following letter will show, he could not 
resist, as an expert in phrenology, from assuring 
me that I had made an excellent choice. I append 
the translation, which he enclosed with the original 
letter in Persian. The latter is reproduced on the 
adjoining page. 

To my wise am^d Tcvrid friend, the Hon^ble, G, CurzoTij M.P, 

After compliments and Persian titles and my sincere 
desire of seeing you again, also my great friendly expres- 
sions towards you, my very wise friend — I wish to inform 
you that I am greatly pleased and interested on reading 
the contents of your letters, dated March 15 and June 9. 
I beg to acknowledge the same and my reply is as follows : 
I was very much delighted to hear of your marriage, also 
delighted to receive Lady Curzon's photo. Thank God 
she is according to your own choice. I pray God will 
keep you (my own wise friend) successful in all the 
desires of this life. 

I also congratulate you, my honest friend, that though 
you have only married one wife she is competent. 

From my knowledge of phrenology she is very wise 
and a well-wisher of yours and better than 1000 men. 

I hope it may be God's wish, my dear friend, that you 
will be happy and satisfied with her always. Thanks 
to the Almighty you have been fortunate enough to meet 
with such a wife, that in the whole of England there are 
but a few. Faithfulness, wisdom and honesty, all these 
I gather from her photo and according to phrenology. 
May God bless you with a goodly offspring. 

And then in a final sentence leaped forth the irre- 
sistible humour of the man: 



82 TALES OF TRAVEL 

If she should at any time thrash you I am certain 
you will have done something to deserve it. — I am your 
sincere friend and well-wisher 

Abdur Rahman, Amir of Afghanistan. 

As a balance to this type of correspondence I 
append a single example of a more political letter, 
written to me while I was still a private person; 
but revealing many of the best-known features of 
the Amir's epistolary style. In the first part of 
the letter is a reference to a press report of some- 
thing that I was alleged to have said in England 
about Afghanistan. The second part relates to the 
constant disputes between the Indian and Afghan 
Governments, arising out of the frontier warfare 
known as the Tirah Campaign, which occupied the 
greater part of 1897. 

May my dear, discerning friend. His most honoured 
Excellency, the Honourable George Curzon, Esquire, 
Minister of Parliament, M.P. of the House of Com- 
mons, continue in the keeping of (God) the True Pro- 
tector. 

The letter of that kind friend written on December 30 
A.D. 1897, corresponding to Shaban 5, a.h. 1315, reached 
the presence of your friend at the best of seasons. From 
the circumstances of your corporeal well-being joy was 
produced, and I rejoiced at the soundness of that dear 
friend's health. 

As for what that kind friend wrote concerning the 
adverse words which have been reported to me as having 
been uttered by that friend, I have never had cause to 
complain of that kind friend's friendship, nor of his 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 83 

utterances concerning the State of Afghanistan; neither 
do I suppose any such thing. I regard you as the first 
of my friends, the only friend I have in the world. On 
this subject I have much to say, for there are many 
reasons for speech. When that kind friend was in Kabul, 
and we and you sat together in one place, and discussed 
our inmost thoughts about Russia and Afghanistan, and 
the disorder of Afghanistan, concerning the antagonism 
of the Russian Government, the defects of Afghanistan 
had still in no wise been remedied when the misconduct 
of a frontier contiguous to the frontier officers of the 
Most Glorious State of England brought about disturb- 
ance and confusion, until at length the frontier officers 
of that State first cast suspicion upon me for their foolish 
deeds and words; for they issued proclamations for a 
general massacre of the people of the hill-passes, and fear 
overtook them all, and they slew the Agents of the Most 
Glorious State and burned and ravaged; and several 
thousand men and part of the Army of the Most Glorious 
State died, neither did they gain anything save hostility. 
Alas ! alas ! for this nearness and proximity of Russia, 
and the hostility of the Afghan frontier tribes. I do not 
know what the end of it will be, for although I have no 
concern with the people of Tira and the Afridis and the 
peoples of Bajawar and Swat, it is now eleven months 
since all caravans from my dominions have been stopped, 
and the implements which were necessary for my engine- 
workshop have been detained. In proof of this I send 
enclosed in this packet, for your information and perusal, 
an Order written by the Commissioner of Peshawar for 
the caravan conductor (Kafila-bashi) of your friend 
(myself) located at Peshawur, about the detention of the 
oil-boxes, and I do not know what may be the reason 
of his (the Commissioner's) conduct. They have caused 



84 TALES OF TRAVEL 

my thoughts to incline to doubt India, so that enemy 
and friend are passed out of my memory {i.e., I confuse 
friends and enemies). If you will again peruse the 
political news of India which has gone to London wherein 
they have said many things about (i.e., have cast many 
reflections on) my friendship, and have made (many) 
aspersions (you will see that) I have patiently stomached 
much, and by these forbearances it will be known to that 
kind friend that my friendship towards the Most Glorious 
State is very firm, for had this not been so, I too would 
have said something foolish; but what shall I do, or 
what shall I say? This much I will say that I remain 
the friend of the Most Glorious State and that loyalty 
thereunto abides in my heart, but the Agents of the 
Most Glorious State in India are endeavouring to bring 
about its overthrow. Please God it will not be over- 
thrown on my part, though should the initiative (in 
hostility or provocation) be taken by the Indian Govern- 
ment, I do not know (what might happen) : but, please 
God, (the initiative) will not be on my side, for my friend- 
ship towards the Most Glorious State is firmly established 
as a mountain. I hope from God that it may be the 
same on the other side, so that we may not become such 
as our enemies would desire. 

Further you wrote "at this time (of writing) is the 
transition of the year and the renewal of the Christian 
date into 1898; therefore I send my prayers for your 
welfare." So also your friend (i.e., myself) with fullest 
affection, sends greetings and congratulations, (praying) 
that, please God, you may pass the New Year in con- 
tentment and health, and may ever remember the cir- 
cumstances of your safe preservation. For the rest, good 
wishes. May the days of your glory and gladness be 
continued ! 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 85 

Written on Monday the 15th of the month of Ramazan 
the Blessed, a.h. 1315, corresponding to the 7th of Feb- 
ruary, A.D. 1898. 

(Signed) Amie Abdur Rahman Ziya'u^l-Millati wa'd 
Din, G.C.S.I. and G.C.B. 

To return to the conversations of the Amir. 
Perhaps the most salient feature both of his bear- 
ing and talk was his gift of polished, but mordant 
sarcasm, sometimes, where his own subjects were 
concerned, taking the form of sardonic and fearful 
cruelty. I will relate four illustrations of this 
terrifying himiour which happened during or about 
the time when I was at Kabul. Of one of these 
I was a witness. It arose during a conversation 
about the reputation for cruelty which the Amir 
had been told that he acquired in England. 

A. " What do they say about my system of gov- 
ernment in England? Please tell me the exact 
truth." 

C, " They say that Your Highness is a very 
powerful but a very severe ruler, and that you 
have repressed with great harshness all hostile 
movements among your tiu^bulent and rebelhous 
subjects." 

A, " But they say more than that. They say 
that I am a cruel and bloody barbarian, and that 
I do not know how to govern my people or to give 
peace and order to my country." 

C " They may criticise Your Highness's meth- 
ods. I do not presume to offer an opinion as to 
the results." 



86 TALES OF TRAVEL 

A. (a little while later). " Is there a paper in 
England called the Standard? " 

C. "Yes." 

A, " Is it a good paper? Does it speak the 
truth?" 

C. "Broadly speaking, I believe that it 
does." 

A. "Is there a city in your country called 
Birmingham? Is it a large city? How many 
inhabitants has it? And is it well governed? " 

C. " Yes, it is a very large city and it has over 
three-quarters of a million of people, and I believe 
that it prides itself on its municipal administra- 
tion." 

A, "Is there also another city called Manches- 
ter and is it like Birmingham? " 

C, "It is also a very large city with a very 
great population and is reported to be well gov- 
erned." 

A, (producing a small piece of newspaper from 
a fold in his robe) . " Here is an extract from the 
Standard, which you say is a good paper and a 
truthful paper, and which says that in Manchester, 
which is a great and well governed city, last year 

there were murders and in Birmingham 

murders; and that many of the murderers were 
not captured and executed. Is that true?" 

C. " If the Standard is quoting official statistics, 
I have no doubt that it is true." 

A. (turning to his courtiers standing in a crowd 
at the other end of the room) . " What is the pop- 
ulation of my country? " 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 87 

Courtiers, " Your Majesty rules over eight mil- 
lions of people." ^ 

A, " Ah, and how many murders were com- 
mitted in the whole of Afghanistan last year? " 

Courtiers, " Under Your Majesty's just and be- 
nevolent rule, where law and order are perfectly 
maintained, only six murders were committed in 
the entire country, and the guilty were caught and 
condemned to immediate execution." 

A. (turning to me) . "And this is the country 
and these are the people whom I am accused in 
England of not knowing how to rule, and am 
taunted with being barbarous and bloody and cruel. 
Birmingham only has one-tenth of my population 
and Manchester only one-fifteenth, and they are 

well-governed cities, and yet murders are 

committed there in the course of a year, and, as 
the Standard, which is a truthful paper, goes on 
to say, in a great many cases the murderers were 
neither caught nor executed." 

I own that I found it a little difficult to pursue, 
with dialectical advantage, this strain of conver- 
sation. On the other hand, the paucity of crimes 
of violence in Afghanistan, if it was true (as may 
well have been the case), was undoubtedly due, 
neither to respect for law nor to excellence of 
administration, but to the reign of terror that pre- 
vailed and to the horrible tortures inflicted upon 
persons suspected of murder. 

One day there came running into a Durbar 
being held by the Amir, streaming with sweat, and 

1 1 believe the real mimber was nearer 5,000,000. 



88 TALES OF TRAVEL 

in the last stage of exhaustion, a Herati Afghan, 
who claimed to have run all the way from Herat 
without stopping, in order to tell the Amir that 
the Russians had crossed the frontier and were 
advancing into Afghanistan, and he appealed for 
a reward from his grateful Sovereign. 

A. (who did not believe the story for one mo- 
ment) . " Did you see the Russians with your own 
eyes? And how many were they, and how many 
guns had they with them, and by what road are 
they marching?" 

H. " Your Majesty, I saw them with my own 
eyes, and there were 20,000 men, and they had 
many guns with them, and they are advancing 
rapidly upon the Herat — Kabul road; and they 
will soon be here, and I ran ahead of them with- 
out stopping, for days, in order that I might warn 
Your Majesty of the danger which is so near." 

A. (to his courtiers). " This faithful man had 
the good fortune to be the first to see the Russian 
army cross the frontier near to Herat, and he has 
run all the way here in order to warn us of the 
danger. How can we sufficiently reward him? I 
will tell you. He also shall have the good fortune 
to be the first to see the Russians arrive, and we 
will put him in a place where he will have a better 
chance than any other man. Take him to the high- 
est tree in this place, and tie him to the highest 
bough of the tree, and let him remain there until 
the Russians come — and then he shall descend from 
the tree and bring us the news, and he shall obtain 
his reward." 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 89 

And so the faithful Afghan was taken and tied 
up in the tree; and there he remained strung up 
aloft until he perished, as a warning to all other 
faithful Afghans whose fidelity was pursued at an 
unwarrantable sacrifice of the truth. 

My next story is more genial in its develop- 
ment, though no less sinister in its consequence. 

One day there was being counted out in the 
Durbar hall before the Amir a great pile of gold 
(Bokharan tillas^ bangles, and other coins), prior 
to being sent to the mint to be coined. The Afghan 
ministers were seated on the ground counting the 
tillas, and the Amir was looking on. 

As the counting proceeded, a harem girl, who 
was dressed in man's clothes in order to act as a 
spy, and who was standing in the background, ob- 
served that one of the principal Afghan ministers 
(whom we will call Suleiman Khan) was abstract- 
ing some of the gold tillas, and had already secreted 
eighteen in his worsted sock while pretending to 
scratch his leg. She accordingly wrote a note 
which she passed to one of the court attendants, 
who whispered in the ear of the Amir. 

The Amir took no notice, and the counting con- 
tinued, until all the gold had been counted or 
weighed. Then, following a familiar practice, he 
apparently forgot all about the tribute, and com- 
menced a line of discursive reflection on an entirely 
different topic. 

A. " A great many people say that the Afghans 
are not a white-skinned people, and they say, for 
instance, that their skins are not so white as those 



90 TALES OF TRAVEL 

of the Russians or the English. Tell me, is this 
true?" 

Courtiers (unanimously). "Your Majesty, 
there could not be a greater lie. No people have 
whiter skins than the Afghans, and we are con- 
vinced that no Afghan has so white a skin as Your 
Majesty." 

A, (much gratified) . " That is true, and to 
prove to you that it is the truth, I will show you 
my own leg! " 

(Thereupon the Amir — ^who at one of my audi- 
ences did exactly the same thing to demonstrate 
to me the same proposition, though in a more 
agreeable context^ — proceeded to pull his white 
cotton pantaloons up the calf of his leg, and to 
expose the colour of his skin, which (I am bound 
to say) was extraordinarily white, considering that 
his complexion was somewhat sallow, and that he 
had a thick growth of black or, at least, dyed 
hair. 

A, (to his courtiers). "There, as you see, is 
the calf of my leg, and you can note how white is 
the skin." 

Courtiers, "Your Majesty, we never saw so 
white a leg, and the legs of all Russians and Eng- 
lishmen are brown in comparison." 

A, " That is true. But let me see if my people 
and my courtiers are as white skinned as myself, 
or if they are less so. (Then, turning to the 
throng) Haji Mohammed, let us see your leg! 
Ali Akbar, let us see yours! (The two legs, ex- 
hibiting various degrees of yellowish pigmentation. 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 91 

were then satisfactorily exposed. ) Suleiman Khan, 
let us see your leg! " 

S. K, '' Oh, Your Majesty, I beg you to excuse 
me. I have been suffering for some time from 
a severe ague in the lower part of my legs and I 
dare not pull down my sock." 

A. "It will never do for my servant not to 
follow the example of his Sovereign, even if his 
skin, as may be expected, is much less white. Pull 
down your right sock, Suleiman Khan!" 

S, K. " I implore Your Majesty to be merci- 
ful. I am suffering the most acute agony from 
my ague. I must return at once to my house and 
have medical treatment. I entreat Your Majesty 
to have pity upon your faithful servant." 

A, " Pull down your sock, Suleiman Khan." 

Thereupon the guilty sock had to be pulled 
down, and the fatal gold Bokharan tillas rolled 
one by one on to the floor. 

The Amir, speechless with rage, threw himself 
back on the divan and for some time did not utter 
a sound. Then he shouted, " Take him away to 
the prison, strip him of all his wealth, and let him 
be no more seen." 

(It was told to me at Kabul, though I cannot 
vouch for it, that this and no less was the fate 
of the unhappy Suleiman Khan.) 

Another incident happened soon after I left 
Kabul, the victim of which was an ofBcer whom 
I had seen daily during my visits to the Palace. 
This was a dapper little figure, the commandant 
of the Amir's bodyguard, who was always in 



92 TALES OF TRAVEL 

attendance, in a beautiful uniform, in the Durbar 
hall. He had, when a boy, been one of the Amir's 
favourite batchas^ or dancing-boys (an amusement 
much favoured in Afghanistan) , and when his mas- 
ter attained to power, he had been promoted stage 
by stage until he had reached his present eminence. 

This man was beheved, or found, to be guilty 
of some act of disloyalty or treachery to his sov- 
ereign, and the latter heard of it before the culprit 
discovered that he had been detected. The scene 
happened in full Durbar, when one day the Amir 
told the story of the culprit's guilt, while he stood 
before him in his brilliant uniform, and thus an- 
nounced the punishment: 

"A batcha you began and a batcha you shall 
end. Go back to your house and take off your 
UDQiform and put on your petticoats (the dancing- 
boys in Afghanistan dance in petticoats), and 
come back and dance here before the Durbar." 

The wretched man, a general, and forty years 
of age, had to do as he was bidden, and to come 
and dance in the garb of a girl before the assembled 
Court of Kabul. Can anything more refined in its 
cruelty be imagined? 

I could tell many more anecdotes, some of them 
even more grim, of this remarkable man. One of 
his strangest traits was his unbounded and uncon- 
cealed contempt for his own people. Now and 
then he would burst out in a torrent of denuncia- 
tion in open Durbar. He would say, " The 
Afghans are cowards and traitors. For years they 
have been trying to kill me, but they cannot sue- 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 93 

ceed. Either they have not the courage to shoot 
or they cannot shoot straight." And then he would 
turn to the assembled courtiers and shout out: " Is 
this not true? Are you not a craven and a miser- 
able people ? " And with one accord, with bowed 
heads, they would reply: " Your Majesty, we are! " 

One day he was enlarging upon this theme, and 
he told me two anecdotes in illustration of it. He 
said that when a few years before he had succeeded 
in defeating the rebelhon of his cousin Ishak Klian, 
largely owing to the fact that some of the rebel 
regiments had deserted their leader on the battle- 
field (he seemed quite pleased at this, as though it 
showed that he himself had not won by the superior 
value or courage of his own troops), he had held 
a review at Mazar-i- Sharif in Northern Afghan- 
istan. His loyal regiments marched past before 
him, and they included the battaHons that had 
deserted from the enemy. The Amir himself was 
seated on a chair on a httle mound, and the troops 
were defiling, four abreast, immediately below him. 
As they approached, he noticed that one of his 
cousin's soldiers held four cartridges between his 
extended fingers, and, as he drew near, the man 
suddenly put up his rifle and fired point blank 
at the Amir from the distance of a few paces. 

" And did he hit me? " the Amir shouted. " Not 
a bit. Just at that moment I leaned aside to speak 
to one of my generals and the bullet passed under 
my armpit and went through the leg of a slave 
who was standing behind mel Was not that 
good? " And then he burst into a roar of laughter 



94 TALES OF TRAVEL 

at this admirable joke, and at the gross ineptitude 
of the Afghan soldier, who could not kill him even 
at the distance of a few feet. 

Another of his stories illustrating the alleged 
timidity and cowardice of his people was as fol- 
lows. He said that when he went to India to see 
Lord Dufferin, he was accorded a great military 
review at Rawal Pindi, and that after the review, 
which was held in pouring rain, he dismounted 
and entered the Durbar or reception tent prepared 
for him. There was a big table standing in the 
tent, and upon it was a miniature cannon. At sight 
of this object his terrified staff called out to him 
to hide, because the gun would infallibly go off 
and kill him. 

" What did I say to them? " (he added to me). 
" I said * Cowards and fools ! You think that this 
is a real cannon. It is only a machine to cut off 
the end of a cigar.' " 

Great as was his contempt for his people, he 
did not mean to run any risks or to give them any 
opportunity of getting rid of him before his time. 
On one occasion he was suffering severely from 
toothache and decided to have the offending tooth 
taken out. The surgeon prepared chloroform, 
whereupon the Amir asked how long he would 
have to remain insensible. " About twenty min- 
utes," said the doctor. " Twenty minutes ! " replied 
the Amir. " I cannot afford to be out of the world 
for twenty seconds. Take it out without chloro- 
form!" 

The Amir was very proud of his gift of ironical 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 95 

retort, and he furnished me with two illustrations 
of it, which evidently caused him the greatest 
satisfaction. He told me that on one occasion a 
Russian officer on the North-west frontier, some- 
where near Maimena or Andkui, had written him 
a letter to say that he proposed to exercise a force 
of 500 men, both cavalry and infantry, near the 
frontier, and he hoped that the Amir would not 
be alarmed, or regard this as a hostile proceeding. 
Certainly not, replied the Amir, he had no 
objection at all, the more so as he proposed to 
exercise a force of 5000 Afghan troops opposite 
the same spot. No more was heard of the Rus- 
sian proposal. 

The second occasion occurred in the course of 
one of our conversations. I had produced one 
day an extract from an English newspaper which 
spoke of a new British gun that could throw a 
projectile for a distance of 15 miles. The Amir 
showed neither curiosity nor surprise. But a little 
later he turned to the commandant of his artil- 
lery, who was in the Durbar room, and asked him 
in a casual way what was the range of the new 
gun which he, the Amir, had just made and sent 
to Herat. " Fifty miles," replied the command- 
ant, without turning a hair. 

The Amir enjoyed very much talking about 
personal and domestic details, and sometimes 
would tell me stories about the private lives of his 
courtiers, who had to stand by looking rather 
sheepish while they heard the secrets of the harem 
revealed to a stranger in their presence. One 



96 TALES OF TRAVEL 

day I was suffering from toothache and had a 
swollen iace. This gave him an excuse for a dis- 
sertation on dentistry of which, as of every science, 
he claimed to be a master. Four things, he said, 
were bad for the teeth — ^meat, sweets, cold water, 
and wine. He had suffered very much from bad 
teeth himself, particularly when he was in Samar- 
kand, and since the age of forty he had worn en- 
tirely false teeth. These had been put in by a 
dentist from Simla, and from time to time he 
would take out the plate while speaking. In 
Samarkand, however, he could put no trust in the 
Russian physicians, because thirty-two of his own 
followers fell ill and went to the Russian 'hospital, 
where every one of them died. Accordingly he 
studied medicine, including dentistry, himself, and 
ever afterwards treated both himself and his fol- 
lowers. 

He was also much interested in the marriage 
laws and customs of different countries. Monog- 
amy, as practised in England and Europe, he 
held to be a most pernicious system. Firstly, 
there being, as a rule, more women than men in 
European countries, monogamy meant that a large 
number of them remained unmarried, which was 
a cruel and unnatural fate. Secondly, if a man 
was only allowed by law to take one wife the 
country swarmed with " children of God," i.e.j 
illegitimate offspring. In fact, the British colo- 
nies, Australia, Canada, etc., were maintained as 
places to which to send these progeny, for whom 
there was no room at home. However, it was all 



THE AMIR OF AFGHANISTAN 97 

due to our damp climate. Reared in perpetual 
water and mud, the English people were like rice, 
while the Eastern peoples, living on a dry soil, 
resembled wheat. 

Englishmen accordingly were not strong and 
could not possibly manage four wives, like the 
Moslems. As to the late period of many Enghsh 
marriages (instancing my own), that was due to 
the fact that there were so many beautiful women 
in England, that a man was never satisfied, and 
always thought that by waiting he would get some- 
thing better still. 

I might, from the well-charged contents of my 
note-book, carefully made up every night during 
my stay in Afghanistan, tell many more tales of 
my unusual and astonishing host. Perhaps some 
day I may narrate some of my dealings with him, 
when, instead of being a visitor at his capital, I 
became the head of the Government of India and 
was called upon to correspond with him in an 
official capacity. He was a very difficult person 
to handle and a very formidable opponent to cross. 

In my numerous interviews I flatter myself 
that I succeeded in winning the Amir's confidence, 
and he certainly spoke very kindly of me in his 
autobiography, published by his secretary, who 
acted as interpreter at our meetings. Upon me 
he left a profound, even if a somewhat chequered 
impression. Before I left Kabul he had made 
and presented to me with his own hand a gold 
star, inlaid with rubies and diamonds, and en- 
graved with a Persian inscription. 



98 TALES OF TRAVEL 

Seven years later, i.e., in October 1901, Amir 
Abdur Rahman Khan died at the comparatively 
early age of fifty-seven, though he was commonly 
believed to be much older. On that occasion the 
following proclamation, with which I close my 
chapter, was issued by his son, Habibulla, who 
succeeded him: 

The blessed corpse of the august and potent King, 
according to his will, was carried to the Royal Taralistan 
with great pomp and honour, and he was interred in the 
ground, and placed in a place where is the real and 
ultimate abode of man. That august and potent monarch, 
that King of pleasing and praiseworthy manners, expired 
and sank in the depth of the kindness of God. May his 
abode be in Heaven ! 

In summing up his character, I do not think 
that I can find a better description than the final 
verdict which was passed by the Roman biog- 
rapher upon the Emperor Hadrian, the studied 
antitheses of which have a peculiar appropriate- 
ness in the case of the Afghan Amir: ^^ Severiis 
laetus, comis gravis, lascivus ctmctator, tenaoo 
liberaliSj, simulator simplex, saeous clemens, et 
semper in omnibus variu>sf* ^ 

^ Spartiauus, Be Vita Hadricmi, 14> 11. 



Three 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 



Three 
THE VOICE OF MEMNON 

As morn from Memnon drew 
Rivers of melody. 

Tennyson, " The Palace of Art/* 

LONG before the dahabeah enters upon the 
J great sweep of river that skirts the pylons 
of Kamak, the travellers have strained their eyes 
to discover whatever traces may be visible of the 
once mighty city, the metropolis of an empire, and 
the mausoleum of its kings — Egyptian Thebes. 
How much or how little will be remaining of the 
hundred temple-towers, the shrines and statues 
and obelisks without number, the avenues of 
sphinxes, the princely palaces and fortresses, the 
sculptured courts and colonnades? On the east- 
ern bank the ruins of Karnak stand up in solid 
and monumental grandeur; but on the western 
the eye wanders over the level expanse that 
stretches to the foot of the hills, wherein lie the 
rifled secrets of the Tombs of the Kings, without 
at first encountering more than a few confused 
heaps or mounds, scarcely distinguishable from 
the sand which surrounds them. Presently, how- 
ever, our gaze is arrested by two dark objects, 
situated at a greater distance from the river than 
the ruins already observed, and differing from 

101 



102 TALES OF TRAVEL 

them both in appearance and elevation. They 
seem to rise up hke twin martellos, or watch- 
towers from the desert, and to stand apart in mel- 
ancholy solitude. The spectacle is strange and 
puzzhng, and for a moment our imagination is at 
a loss for a key. Suddenly it flashes upon us that 
the two mysterious objects which have excited our 
astonishment are none other than the famed 
Colossi of Thebes — the Vocal Memnon and his 
mute companion. 

A walk of a little over a mile from the river 
bank brings us to the base of the statues. As we 
approach them through the allotments of clover 
and maize, they loom up higher and higher, until, 
as we stand at their feet, their stupendous shapes 
almost exclude the sky. Placed on the very fringe 
of the cultivated soil, where the furthermost Nile 
deposit is cut short by the first wave of sand, they 
stand between the dead and the living, and seem 
like two grim sentinels stationed to guard the 
entrance to the desert behind. At other times, 
when the inundations are abroad and the surround- 
ing country is turned into a sea, they tower with 
an even greater solemnity above the waters. The 
Nile stretches in an imbroken level from its own 
channel till it washes their pedestals and laves 
their massive feet. How vividly do we realise the 
prophet's description of " populous No, that was 
situate among the rivers, that had the waters 
round about it, whose rampart was the sea, and 
her wall was from the sea." ^ It is under these 

iNahum iii. 8. 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 103 

conditions and at sunset that the pair should be 
seen. Then, as the glowing disc sinks behind the 
hills that enclose the Valley of the Tombs of the 
Kings and the dwindling radiance of the heavens 
is repeated in the mirror of the flood, they brood 
like huge black spectres over the darkening scene. 
Keats must have heard of this moment when he 
wrote in "Hyperion": 

.... a vast shade 
In midst of his own brightness, like the bulk 
Of Memnon's image at the set of sun 
To one who travels from the dusking East. 

Blacker and huger each moment the figures be- 
come, their monstrous shadows thrown forward 
upon the lake, till at length even the afterglow 
has faded, and, still as death themselves, they fitly 
preside over the deadly stillness of the southern 
night. 

A closer inspection enhances rather than de- 
tracts from the majesty of the images. They are 
planted 54 feet apart, and face towards the south- 
south-east. Each represents a colossal male figure 
seated upon a throne, which is itself supported by 
a pedestal. Though the faces of both have been 
hacked out of all human resemblance, yet the 
shapeless blocks of stone seem endowed with an 
indefinable sentience, as if, though bereft even of 
the similitude of human features, their sight could 
pierce the endless vistas of space and time. The 
arms are attached to the sides and recline upon 
the stalwart thighs; the hands, with fingers out- 



104 TALES OF TRAVEL 

stretched and turned slightly inwards, are placidly 
disposed upon the knees ; the legs, like two mighty 
columns, rest against the throne and lift up the 
lap of the Colossus to the sky. The whole atti- 
tude is that of a giant who has sat himself down 
to take his repose after the fatigues and turmoil 
of successful war. The height of the figures is 
51 feet without, and 64 feet with, the pedestal; 
but of the latter 6 feet are now buried beneath the 
accimiulations left by the Nile. Before these had 
been formed, and when the pedestals were bare 
to their foundations, when, further, each head was 
framed in the full spreading wig of the Egyptian 
Pharaohs, and when the faces and bodies were 
intact, the impression produced must have been 
such as could be felt rather than described. Be- 
tween the legs of each statue are small figures of 
the wife and mother of the King; a figure of his 
daughter stands by his knee. On the two sides of 
the two thrones are deeply incised pictures of the 
Nile gods of Upper and Lower Egypt, who are 
plaiting together the stems of the papyrus and the 
lotus, the emblems of the two provinces. 

Every one knows that these statues are effigies 
of the same King — ^Amunoph, or Amenhotep, or 
Amenophis III., one of the most famous sover- 
eigns and conquerors of the Eighteenth Dynasty, 
who reigned at Thebes about 1500 B.C., and was 
the husband of Queen Thiy and father of the 
heretic King Amenophis IV., or Akhnaton, one 
of whose daughters married the recently discov- 
ered Tutankhamen. The cartouches on the backs 





[105 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 107 

of both figures contain the King's name. Known, 
too, is the name of the architect — the same as that 
of the royal master who delighted to do him 
honour — ^Amenhotep, son of Hapu, whose own 
statue, richly adorned with inscriptions, is in the 
Boulak collection at Cairo. Thereon we read: 

For my lord the King was created the monument of 
sandstone. Thus, did I according to that which seemed 
best in my own eyes, causing to be made two images of 
a noble hard stone in his likeness in this his great building, 
which is like unto heaven. . . . After this manner made 
I perfect the King's images, wonderful for their breadth, 
lofty in their height, the stature whereof made the gate- 
tower to look small. Forty cubits was their measure.^ 
In the glorious sandstone mountain wrought I them, on 
this side and on that, on the east side and on the west. 
Furthermore, I caused to be built eight ships, whereon 
they were carried up and set in his lofty building. It 
will last as long as the heaven endureth. 

From this interesting record we gather that the 
material of the Colossi was derived from quarries 
lower down the Nile, probably from those in the 

1 Taking the cubit to be the ordinary cubit of I814 inches, this 
corresponds fairly well with the actual height given above. Others, 
reckoning by the royal cubit of 20% inches, have made the original 
height 69 feet, and accounted for the difference by supposing that 
the heads were once surmounted with the pshent, or duplicate crown 
of Upper and Lower Egypt, so frequent a feature in colossal repre- 
sentations of the Pharaohs. It is probable, however, that these fig- 
ures were without the pshent, both because no trace of it is observ- 
able upon the head of the southern or unrepaired colossus, and be- 
cause there were found in the immediate vicinity, and are now to be 
seen in the British Museum, two statues in black granite of the 
same Amunoph — precise facsimiles on a smaller scale of the Colossi — ; 
both of which are wigged but imcrowned. 



108 TALES OF TRAVEL 

hills of Toora above Cairo, that they were towed 
or floated up the river on great barges, and were 
then erected before the outermost pylons of the 
magnificent temple which Amunoph III., in addi- 
tion to his works at Luxor and Kamak, was 
building as a memorial of himself in the western 
quarter of Thebes. The famous sculpture of the 
Colossus on a Sledge in the grotto of Ed-Dayr 
(so happily adapted by the late Sir E. Poynter, 
P.R.A., to the subject of one of his best known 
pictures) will give us some idea of the arduous 
passage of these mighty blocks, estimated as 
weighing 1200 tons apiece, from the river bank to 
their final resting place before the pylons of the 
royal temple. The latter, which has perished 
utterly, has itself been described as " probably the 
greatest work of art ever wrought in Egypt." 

The most superficial observation discloses sev- 
eral points of difference between the pair. The 
southernmost Colossus is a monolith, and has evi- 
dently suffered less from the hand of the destroyer 
than its companion, though its face and breast 
are mutilated beyond all recognition. The more 
northern statue resembles the other from the 
ground up to its waist, being composed of the 
same dark breccia, or composite stone; but its 
upper parts consist of five tiers of a lighter sand- 
stone, roughly hewn, and built up one on the top 
of the other, in rude semblance of arms and chest 
and head. The thrones and pedestals of both are 
adorned with deeply incised figures and hiero- 
glyphics; but the feet of the northernmost are 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 109 

covered with a network of inscriptions in Greek 
and Latin, extending over the instep and reaching 
half-way up the leg. This latter is the celebrated 
Vocal Memnon. Its history and interpretation 
are the problems which I am about to discuss. 

The first question to settle is: When did the 
mutilation of the one and the shattering of the 
other (thus necessitating its repair with a different 
material) take place, and to what agencies are 
they to be ascribed? Writers have conmionly de- 
voted their entire attention to the vicissitudes of 
the Memnon, without turning a thought to the 
damage inflicted on the Amunoph. But the two 
cases must be considered together, and may be 
found to throw a reciprocal light upon each other; 
for though a catastrophe arising from natural 
causes might have overtaken the one while sparing 
the other, yet the hand of a himian destroyer 
would not be likely to have purposely exercised 
a similar discrimination. 

Of the authorities on the subject to whoni 
weight must be attached, Strabo, who visited 
Thebes about 20 B.C., and found the northernmost 
statue in ruins, the upper half having been hurled 
to the ground, says that the people of the district 
attributed the downfall to an earthquake.^ Pau- 
sanias, on the other hand, travelling in Egypt 150 
years later, mentions a local report that the statue, 
clearly not yet repaired, was one which Cambyses 
had shivered ^ — a belief which is countenanced by 

1 strabo, Geog. xvii. 816. 
2Pau8ania8, Attica, i. 42-3. 



110 TALES OF TRAVEL 

several of the inscriptions upon its feet/ The 
researches of the French writer, M. Letronne, 
whose industry poured a flood of light upon the 
entire subject,^ showed that an earthquake did take 
place in Egypt in 27 B.C., shortly before Strabo's 
visit, and that it wrought terrible havoc among 
the edifices of Thebes. It has accordingly been 
accepted — and the conclusion is one which it is 
impossible to resist — ^that the destruction of the 
Memnon occurred at that time and from those 
causes. Hence has ensued the rejection of the 
idea that Cambyses had any hand in the work of 
demolition, which has been set down as the indo- 
lent fabrication of a later age. 

But here the experience of the fellow Colossus 
may well be invoked. In its case the mutilation 
is obvious, but only partial, and is such as could 
not conceivably have been effected by a convulsion 
of nature, or by the mere lapse of time. May we 
not therefore reconcile the two explanations, and 
believe (1) that Cambyses, the great iconoclast, 
the assassin of the sacred bull, the defiler of tem- 
ples and tombs, spent his frantic but feeble rage 
upon these as upon other images, hacking at their 
features and fronts, and perhaps, by so doing, 
weakening the stability of the Memnon; but (2) 
that the latter owed the ruin of its upper half to 
the earthquake of 27 B.C.? In this way we ac- 
count for both phenomena, viz., the intentional 

1 Corpus Inscriptionum Graecarum (ed. Boeckli), 4730, 4741, 4745, 
4749, 4756. 

2 CEuvres Choisies de A. J. Letrorme, edites par E. Fagnan, vol, il., 
Paris, 1881. 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 111 

mutilation of the Amunoph and the undesigned 
overthrow of the Memnon. 

But how, it may be asked, did it come about 
that the name Memnon was ever applied to the 
northern statue? The utmost ingenuity has been 
expended upon the solution of this problem. 
Each school has been struck by the remarkable 
confirmation afforded of its own pet hypothesis. 
Those who explain all mythology by the simple 
key of the Solar Myth — an intrepid and romantic 
band — have fastened with avidity upon the evi- 
dence of sun-worship at Thebes and other places 
where the name of Memnon is found, and have 
seen in the reputed image of the son of Eos an 
effigy of the sim-god himself. Others have sup- 
posed that the speaking statue was called Menrnon 
from the prophetic qualities attributed in Oriental 
mjrthology to the head of that hero. The foolish 
suggestion has even been made that the name was 
given because the sounds heard resembled the syl- 
lables mem-non, A more defensible theory is that 
Memnon, whom most classical writers connect 
with Ethiopia, is a figure that might not unnatu- 
rally be found in the Egyptian pantheon; and to 
this idea the title Memnonium, commonly given 
to the western quarter of Thebes and to the tem- 
ples of Abydus, lower down the river, has been 
supposed to lend support. 

In reality, however, Memnon had probably 
nothing to do with Egypt at all. From a com- 
parison of the various authorities by whom the 
legend is mentioned, Memnon, if he ever existed. 



112 TALES OF TRAVEL 

must have been an Asiatic prince, who came from 
Susa, and led a force of Asiatic Ethiopians to the 
rehef of Troy, where he was slain, according to 
most accounts, by Achilles. How, then, are we 
to account for the presence of the name in more 
than one place in Egypt, and for the popular 
tradition which associated him with that coun- 
try? 

No evidence exists that any such connection was 
suspected till the later period of the Greek settle- 
ment in Egypt, when it appears in the Greek 
papyri of Thebes, and in the pages of Strabo and 
Diodorus Siculus. There can be little doubt, 
therefore, that it owed its origin to the omnivorous 
credulity of the Greek immigrants. Eager to 
find, wherever they went, a confirmation of the 
Homeric legend, they fell easy victims to the 
fictitious identification of famous names. Sir 
Gardner Wilkinson has pointed out that Miamun 
was a title of Rameses II., whose great palace- 
temple at Thebes, now usually called the Rames- 
eum, is probably the Memnonium of Strabo, and 
whose other temple at Abydus is called Mem- 
nonium by the same writer. The name Mennu 
appears also in the Egyptian vocabulary applied 
to the memorial temples erected by the kings in 
the Necropolis of Thebes. Miamun or Mennu 
might easily be converted into Memnon, and we 
should thus account for the name both at Thebes 
and Abydus. It would be transferred with equal 
plausibiHty to the statue of Amimoph, and with 
even greater force if the latter had already devel- 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 113 

oped its vocal powers. For not only would 
Amenophis find an obvious Hellenic equivalent in 
Memnon, but the image speaking at sunrise would 
irresistibly suggest the lamented hero plaintively 
addressing his mother, the Dawn. 

We may therefore conjecture that the title of 
Memnon had in this case no more abstruse origin 
than an accidental similarity of names, greedily 
snatched at by Hellenic pilgrims and enhanced 
by the supposed corroboration of a popular 
mythology supplied by the vocal portent. That 
the delusion was not shared by the natives is ex- 
pressly stated by Pausanias, who says that the 
Thebans would not admit that the statue was of 
Memnon, but ascribed it (as we have seen, with 
perfect justice) to one of their own countrymen, 
Phamenoph. Two Greek inscriptions upon the 
left leg repeat the same conviction.^ 

And now as to the vocal powers so mysteriously 
acquired by the northern Colossus, which made it 
one of the wonders of the ancient world. Already 
we have seen that this statue, having probably suf- 
fered injury at the hands of Cambyses, was almost 
certainly overthrown, the lower part alone being 
left standing, by an earthquake in 27 B.C. There 
is no mention of any sounds before the latter year.^ 
It is a significant fact that Strabo, the first re- 



1 Corp. Insc. Graec. 4727, 4731. 

2 Except in inscriptions of the second century a.d. {Corp. Inso. 
Graec. 4730, 4741), which embody the legendary beliefs of the day. 
Writers of a much later date reproduce the same fancy, viz., that 
prior to the sacrilege of Cambyses Memnon had uttered articulate 
sounds. 



114 TALES OF TRAVEL 

corded visitor after the earthquake, is also the 
first who relates the phenomenon. He says that 
a noise as of a slight blow was believed to issue at 
sunrise from the upright portion of the figure. 
He heard it himself, but, he adds, was unable to 
say whether it proceeded from the Colossus or 
from the pedestal, or from the people standing 
round, though he was in the last degree unwilling 
to believe that such a sound could possibly emanate 
from the stone. 

From this time forward a consistent series of 
witnesses testify to the continuance of the miracle. 
Tacitus tells us that Germanicus, who visited 
Egypt in a.d. 19 on his way to Syria, inspected the 
ruins of Egypt, and bestowed particular attention 
upon the speaking image,^ though his enthusiastic 
language may be held to reflect the popular beliefs 
of his .own day rather than of those whose history 
he was writing. Certain it is, however, that from 
the reign of Xero onwards the Memnon acquired 
a wider renown. Then for the first time we find 
the favoured pilgrim recording his gratitude after 
the most approved modern fashion, in a Greek or 
Latin inscription, sometimes metrical, sometimes 
the reverse, upon the legs of the statue. These 
compositions are of varying merit according to the 
taste or ability of their authors. One of the best 
is a Greek stanza carved upon the front of the 
pedestal by one Asclepiodotus, imperial procu- 
rator, and a man of culture, which may be liter- 
ally rendered thus : 

i^ Annates, ii. 61. 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 115 

O sea-born Thetis, know that when 

His mother's torch is lit 
Memnon awakes and cries aloud, 

Fired by the warmth of it. 
Beneath the brow of Libyan heights. 

Where Nilus cuts in twain 
.The city of the glorious gates, 

He wakes to life again. 
Yet thine Achilles, who in fight 

Ne'er slaked his savage joy. 
On the Thessalian plains is mute. 

Is mute on those of Troy/ 

Juvenal, who is believed to have been in Egypt 
in the reign of Domitian, is the next visitor of im- 
portance. His words — 

Dimidio magicae resonant ubi Memnone chordae,^ 

leave no doubt that the figure when seen by him 
was still in the same truncated condition. Lucian, 
who was, and Pliny, who was not, an eye-witness,^ 
both mention the phenomenon. But the zenith 
of celebrity appears to have been reached in the 
time of Hadrian. That indefatigable sightseer, 
with his wife Sabina and a large suite, several 
times visited and heard Memnon; and so great an 
impetus was given to the expedition by the impe- 
rial patronage, that we find nearly thirty inscrip- 
tions dating from this reign. Pausanias, also a 
visitor about this time and an auditor of the 

lOorp. Insc. Graec. 4747. 2 Juvenal, Sat. xv. 5. 

3 Pliny, Nat. Hist, xxxvi. 58. 



116 TALES OF TRAVEL 

miracle, confirms the description of Juvenal, and 
adds the interesting detail that the noise resem- 
bled the snapping of a harp-string. Inscriptions 
of a later date prove that the sound from the shat- 
tered base continued to be heard till the reign of 
Septimius Severus. The year 196 marks the last 
recorded instance/ From that date till the pres- 
ent time the hero has remained speechless, and 

Memnon's lyre has lost the chord 
That breathed the mystic tone. 

One fact has been made abundantly clear by this 
narrative, viz., that the " rivers of melody " which, 
in Lord Tennyson's somewhat hyperbolic phrase, 
*'mom from Memnon drew," flowed only while 
the upper half of Memnon did not exist. We 
may therefore give the conge at once to all the 
pretty stories of Aurora kissing her son upon the 
lips and the latter uttering an articulate reply, 
which have captivated the not too critical fancy of 
the poets or of prose writers claiming a more than 
poetical licence. The only two authors of any- 
thing like contemporary date who give currency 
to the fiction are Lucian and Philostratus. The 
former puts the conceit into the mouth of a pro- 
fessional liar in one of his Dialogues^ with the 
manifest object of discrediting the ridiculous tale. 
Philostratus, relating the travels of Apollonius of 
Tyana in the first century a.d., quotes the account 
of a certain Damis, who accompanied the pagan 

"^ Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum (ed. Mommsen), 61. 
2 Lucian, Philopseudes, c. 33 ; cf . Toxa/ris seu Amicitia, c. 27. 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 117 

mystic to Thebes. Damis describes the statue as 
that of a young and beardless man,^ whose eyes 
sparkled, and whose lips spoke as they faced the 
rising sun, and who appeared to bend forward in 
an attitude of salutation/ As the evidence sum- 
marised above proves that Memnon was at the 
time of Apollonius's visit only a sundered and 
headless block of stone, the philosopher is not to 
be congratulated upon these practical testimonials 
to the veracity of his Boswell. 

From the fact that the last attested instance of 
Memnon having spoken was in the reign of Sep- 
timius Severus, it may be inferred that something 
must then have happened to suspend the continu- 
ance of the sound. We know from his biog- 
rapher^ that the Emperor himself visited the 
statue — the last of the Caesars who did so — 
though, as no inscription is found containing his 
name, it is almost certain that he was unsuccess- 
ful. These circumstances supplied M. Letronne 
with the very clue which was lacking to explain 
the restoration described in an earlier paragraph 
of this article. His reasoning may be held to 
have established that the five tiers of sandstone 
were added by Severus in the desire to propitiate 
the mute divinity and to reawaken his full powers 
of utterance. The futility of these pious inten- 
tions, and the coincidence of the repair of Mem- 

1 Both colossi were almost certainly bearded ; vide the statues of 
Amunoph III. in the British Museum. 

2 Philostratus, De Vita Apollonei Tyanei, lib. vi. c. 3, 4j of. 
Eeroica, c. 4, and Imagines, lib. i. c. 7. 

8 Spartianus, c. 17. 



118 TALES OF TRAVEL 

non with the commencement of his long silence, 
will have an important bearing upon the discus- 
sion that will presently follow. 

The later history of Memnon may be dismissed 
almost in a sentence. From the beginning of the 
third century a.d. a cloud of impenetrable dark- 
ness settles down upon his fame and fortunes, and 
no suspicion was entertained that the vocal image 
still existed at Thebes till it was re-identified be- 
tween 1737 and 1739 by Pococke, who copied 
some of the inscriptions and published in his 
travels a description and drawing of the statue. 
Norden, the Danish traveller, had visited the spot 
in December 1737; but from the report which he 
sent to the Royal Society in London, in 1741, it 
does not appear even to have crossed his mind that 
the northern Colossus was that of Memnon, 
though he copied a few of the inscriptions and 
made a drawing of the lower half of the figure. 
From that time onwards the investigation pro- 
ceeded with ever-increasing interest, notwithstand- 
ing that the natives, till prompted by foreign 
tourists, persisted in describing the images as 
those of a male and female, whom they called 
Shaama and Taama, thus unconsciously, even in 
their ignorance, preserving the original and au- 
thentic name. 

There remain two points of considerable inter- 
est before I pass to the explanation of the so- 
called miracle. These are the nature of the sound 
and the conditions under which it was heard. I 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 119 

have shown that it was described by Strabo as the 
kind of noise resulting from a shght blow, and by 
Pausanias as resembling the snapping of a harp- 
string. The former idea is reproduced in one of 
the inscriptions/ where it is spoken of as a high- 
pitched note, and is compared to the sound pro- 
duced by striking brass; the latter is confirmed by 
the language of Juvenal (magicae chordae) and 
by the word crepare employed by Pliny. We 
may conclude that it was a clear, somewhat me- 
tallic, sound, varying in pitch and intensity — 
sometimes a shrill, sharp, twanging note, at others 
a fainter and more ringing vibration. 

Of the eighty-seven legible, or partially legible, 
Greek and Latin inscriptions upon the legs which 
have been collected by the indefatigable assiduity 
of a succession of scholars, thirty-three contain a 
reference to the hour or time of day at which the 
phenomenon was heard. On eighteen occasions it 
is mentioned as having happened at the first hour, 
or sunrise, on eight between the first and second 
hours, on six at the second hour, on two between 
the second and third hours, on three at the third 
hour. Two alone date the miracle before sunrise. 
Nine of the writers, including the Empress Sabina, 
testify to having heard it twice (sometimes, but 
rarely, on the same morning) ; four of them, in- 
cluding Hadrian, three times; two of them four 
times; and one, a soldier of the Third Legion, no 
less than twelve times. Two, of whom Sabina is 

iCorp. Insc. Graec. 4725. 



120 TALES OF TRAVEL 

one, relate that they failed on their first visit, but 
were more fortunate on the second. Another was 
not successful till the third time of asking. Sep- 
timius Severus, as we have seen, never heard it at 
all. Of those inscriptions, for the most part in 
Latin, which specify the month, twelve refer to 
February and eleven to March. These were by 
far the most propitious months, perhaps because 
they may have been then, as now, the favourite 
season for ascending the Nile. These figures, 
which are not without a distinct bearing upon the 
issue, tend to show that the voice of Memnon was 
most commonly heard at sunrise, as soon indeed 
as the rays fell upon the statue (cf. Strabo, 
Tacitus, Pliny, Pausanias and Lucian), but on 
some occasions not till a later period of the morn- 
ing. The sound was far from uniform in its oc- 
currence, as the small number of inscriptions, out 
of the thousands of persons who must have visited 
Memnon, would alone sufiice to show; but those 
who repeated the experiment might expect in 
the long run to be rewarded for their persever- 
ance. 

We are now in possession of all the facts avail- 
able to assist us in the elucidation of the prodigy. 
Two alone of the many hypotheses that have been 
put forward are worth considering or present any 
features of probability. A multitude of wild con- 
jectures, based on imagination, but claiming a 
pseudo-scientific or mechanical interest, crumble 
away as soon as they are touched by the merciless 
finger of fact. There remain the rival theories 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 121 

that the voice of Memnon was a fraud practised 
by the Egyptian priesthood, and that it was a 
natural phenomenon to be explained by physical 
causes. 

The former theory was very popular a century 
ago, and found eager exponents among French 
writers and savants, who, during and after the 
Napoleonic expedition, took an absorbing interest 
in the monuments of Egypt. One of these, M. 
Langles, wrote a special dissertation on the sub- 
ject. Another, M. Salverte, the author of a work 
on occult science, even knew how the sound was 
produced. Between the lips or somewhere in the 
figure of the statue was a lens or mirror on which 
the rays of the morning sun, being condensed, 
were applied to the expansion of metallic levers, 
which set in motion a series of hummers, which in 
their turn struck the granite! 

The theory of sacerdotal fraud found, however, 
its most powerful and plausible exponent in the 
English antiquarian Sir Gardner Wilkinson, in a 
paper read before the Royal Society of Literature 
in London, on December 18, 1833, in his Topog* 
raphy of Thebes (1835), in his Modern Egypt 
and Thebes (1843) and in the earlier editions of 
Murray's Handbook to Egypt; and was then re- 
peated by a long sequence of writers. So eminent 
an authority may claim to state his own case, and 
accordingly the following passage is reproduced 
from the third of the above works (vol. ii. 158- 
164), which may be taken to represent the ma- 
tured opinions of the author: 



122 TALES OF TRAVEL 

The priests, who no doubt contrived the sound of the 
statue, were artful enough to allow the supposed deity 
to fail occasionally in his accustomed habit; and some 
were consequently disappointed on their first visit, and 
obliged to return another morning to satisfy their curi- 
osity. ... In the lap of the statue is a stone, which, on 
being struck, emits a metallic sound, that might still 
be made use of to deceive a visitor who was predisposed 
to believe its powers; and from its position, and the 
•squared place cut in the block behind — as if to admit 
a person who might thus lie concealed from the most 
scrutinous observer in the plain below — it seems to have 
been used after the restoration of the statue; another 
similar recess exists beneath the present site of this stone, 
which might have been intended for the same purpose 
when the statue was in its mutilated state.; 

Wilkinson then related that in the year 1824, 
when he first tested the musical stone, the nature 
of the sound did not appear to tally with the 
account given by ancient authors; but that in 
1830, having noticed the phrase "as of smitten 
brass " in one of the inscriptions, he again 
ascended, struck the block with a small hammer, 
and received from a knot of peasants whom he 
had posted below the gratifjdng response, ^^ Ente 
hetidroh e'nahdsf' " You are striking brass." 
This " convinced him that the sound was the same 
that deceived the Romans, and led Strabo to ob- 
serve that it appeared to him as the effect of a 
slight blow." And, he triumphantly concluded, 
" that it was a deception there can be little doubt. 
The fact of the Emperor Hadrian hearing it thrice 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 123 

looks very suspicious, and a natural phenomenon 
would not have been so complimentary to the 
Emperor when it sounded only once for ordinary 
mortals." 

It will be observed that Wilkinson, in the above 
passage, started with the assumption, which he 
clearly expected to carry conviction to every mind, 
that the priests were at the bottom of the pre- 
tended miracle, and then proceeded to fit into it, 
first, the reeorded conditions under which the phe- 
nomenon occurred, and, secondly, his own local 
experiments and observations. As regards the 
assumption, though somewhat defiantly stated, it 
is one with which per se I am not disposed to 
quarrel. No one acquainted with history is likely 
to be overburdened with confidence in the integ- 
rity of the Egyptian hierophants or to feel any 
peculiar temptation to take up the cudgels on their 
behalf. We may admit that these holy persons 
would have been quite capable of practising the 
deception had it been feasible or had it in the re- 
motest degree served their purpose. Talking trees 
and speaking stones are not unknown features in 
sacerdotal annals. The duplicity of the priests is 
a natural phenomenon more familiar to the public 
mind than many of the best-attested phenomena 
of Nature herself. It is not, however, on these 
grounds that Wilkinson won credence for his 
theory and succeeded in foisting it upon the 
popular acceptance; it was because he supplied, 
or appeared to supply, evidence of a confirmatory 
character from his personal inspection of the 



124 TALES OF TRAVEL 

statue. This testimony has never been examined, 
and therefore, in the opinion of the majority, has 
never been shaken ; whilst by those who have taken 
the opposite side in the argument it has been 
tacitly ignored. Indeed, I incline to the opinion 
that of all those who have written about the Mem- 
non Wilkinson is the only one who really made 
the ascent. If, however, his account of its existing 
condition, and the inferences which he is thereby 
led to draw, can be shown to be incorrect, any 
adventitious importance accruing to the theory of 
imposture from the evidence of the figure will dis- 
appear, and the case will have to be judged upon 
the facts and phenomena recorded at an earher 
stage of this discussion. 

Having stated that there is a sonorous lump of 
stone in the lap of the image, Wilkinson proceeded 
to assert that there is a squared place cut in the 
block behind it, which might — and in his opinion, 
no doubt, did — conceal a hidden juggler " after 
the restoration of the statue." As it is well estab- 
lished that Memnon never spoke after his resto- 
ration — Le.j, after the superimposed ranges of sand- 
stone, in one of which this hollow space is said to 
exist, were added to the broken base — it is imma- 
terial to the question whether such a cavity exists 
or not. At the most it would indicate, if true, 
that deception may have been attempted — and, if 
so, unsuccessfully attempted — after the repair — a 
supposition in itself damaging to the hypothesis 
of original fraud, inasmuch as it suggests an 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 125 

endeavour to reproduce by artifice what had pre- 
viously arisen from other causes. Wilkinson was 
evidently aware of this initial flaw in his conten- 
tion. Accordingly, he proceeded to remedy it by 
stating that there is another recess, equally favour- 
able to the designs of an impostor, situated not 
behind, but beneath, the sonorous stone, and in the 
base, from which tradition, without a responsible 
dissentient voice, declares that the sound ema- 
nated. He was thus ad utrumque parattis. If 
a suspicious cavity is wanted in the broken Mem- 
non, it is there: if in the repaired Memnon, it is 
there also. Memnon, in fact, cannot escape with 
untarnished reputation; he can never have spoken 
without, like the Trojan horse, harbouring a secret 
of treachery in his interior. 

Unfortunately for Wilkinson, his statements in 
both cases are invalidated by an examination of 
the Colossus, and have only been accepted by 
those who have never put themselves to the trouble 
of climbing on to the lap of the giant. A ladder 
— the resource of Lilliput in a similar emergency 
— and a footrule are all that is required. An 
investigation conducted with the aid of these ap- 
pliances removed all doubt from my mind and 
revealed the following as the actual condition of 
the Memnon. 

The original block is split downwards from the 
waist or starting-point of the Roman masonry by 
a great lateral fissure, converging towards the bot- 
tom, and obviously due to natural causes, among 



126 TALES OF TRAVEL 

which we can refer it to none other than the fa- 
mous earthquake of 27 B.C. It extends from side 
to side of the base, and is visible from below, 
whence it was noticed by Pococke. This great 
natural cleft is the earlier artificial recess of Wil- 
kinson. Towards the top, where the new tiers 
begin, the crack widens to a width which varies 
from 17 to 31 inches, at the front of it being the 
lap of the old statue, and at the back the bottom- 
most range of the later addition. Here, in the 
jaws of the rent, a block of sandstone — 17^/2 
inches long from right to left, by 22^/^ inches 
broad from front to back, and 10 inches deep, and 
of corresponding colour and material to the Ro- 
man superstructure — is caught and suspended. 
Its sonorous qualities when struck do not differ 
from those of any other stone in a similar position, 
and are apparently due to its detached and pend- 
ent situation. In any case, we can hardly accept 
as a final court of appeal the organs, however, 
sensitive, of the Theban fellahin. Behind and 
above this stone is a gap in the masonry of the 
restoration, from which it has either fallen or been 
pulled out, the block immediately above the gap 
having sunk down into it to a depth of several 
inches, and in so doing having broken away from 
the Roman cement still clinging to the under sur- 
face of the block next again above. If the block 
immediately above the gap were hoisted up to its 
original level, and the fallen stone extricated from 
its present resting-place, it would fit into the 
space which it once occupied and the gap would 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 127 

disappear. This fallen stone is the musical stone,^ 
and this gap is the second artificial recess of Wil- 
kinson! 

We are now in a position to estimate the veri- 
fication of the latter at its proper value. For, 
summing up, we see that neither before nor after 
the restoration was any recess artificially hewn in 
the figure, nor any sonorous stone intentionally 
deposited in the lap of Memnon. The lower 
cavity was the result of a natural convulsion; the 
upper cavity has been produced, we know not 
when, by the very causes — probably the mischiev- 
ousness or destructiveness of the Arabs — ^which 
also detached the so-called musical stone from its 
surroundings, and dropped it into the mouth of 
the crack below. Accordingly, the case in these 
respects entirely collapses. 

So much for the direct evidence supplied by the 
statue, which, instead of positively countenancing 
the theory of fraud, negatively contradicts it. 
The indirect evidence derived from the recorded 
facts is more conclusive still, and on the very 
points where Wilkinson claimed its support is in 
reality fatal to his contention. He argued that 
the inconstancy of the phenomenon, its scant re- 
spect for ordinary mortals, and its partiality to 
the Emperor Hadrian were proofs of a deep and 



iThe indecision of Wilkinson himself is shown by the fact that 
whereas the sounding stone in his later works is this block, in his 
letter to the Eoyal Society {Transactions, vol. ii., pp. 451-6) it is 
identified with the stone in the breast, immediately above the gap. 
We may conjecture that the superior sonorous qualities of the sus- 
pended stone ousted the earlier claimant from its proud position. 



128 TALES OF TRAVEL 

calculating deception. But he conveniently for- 
got that if Memnon spoke three times for the 
Emperor, he declined to utter at all upon the first 
visit of the Empress, who, as we hear from an 
inscription composed by one of her ladies-in- 
waiting, was inflamed with anger at the affront ; ^ 
that he also sounded thrice for three other per- 
sons, none of them of imperial rank ; ^ that two 
visitors, a simple citizen of Caesarea Philippi, in 
Galilee, and an unknown Roman were four times 
honoured ; ^ and that whilst his most lavish favours 
were conferred upon an untitled soldier of the 
Third Legion, twelve times successful,* his crown- 
ing rebuff was reserved for another Emperor — 
Septimius Severus. There is nothing, indeed, to 
show that persons of high rank were more fortu- 
nate than their inferiors in the social scale, though 
it is only natural that the successes of the rich and 
cultured should have been commemorated rather 
than those of the mass, who in many cases can 
have had neither the interest nor the taste to com- 
mand an inscription. The irregularity of the por- 
tent will be seen to have a very different meaning. 
Had the priests been responsible, we may be sure 
that Memnon would have spoken with far greater 
consistency and with a much superior discrimina- 
tion. 

In addition to the points already mentioned 
there are a number of others, ignored by Wilkin- 

1 Corp. Inso. Graeo. 4729. 

^Ihid. 4721-2; Corp, Insc. Latin. 45, 54. 

3 Corp. Insc. Graeo. 4750; Corp. InsG. Latin. 40. 

*JHef. 34. 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 129 

son, but collectively forming a body of circum- 
stantial evidence, the significance of which cannot 
be overlooked. If the priests manufactured the 
sound, how are we to account for the recorded 
variations in its quality and pitch? Why should 
the impact of a hammer or similar instrument 
upon a lump of stone sound on one occasion like 
a snapping harp-string, on another like ringing 
brass? Why, again, should the voice on some 
days have been heard at sunrise, and on others not 
till two or even three hours later in the morning? 
Such a delay might be inconvenient to the visitors, 
and would be extremely disagreeable to the incar- 
cerated musician. Are we to believe that for two 
hundred and twenty years a succession of athletic 
priests climbed up without ladder or visible appli- 
ance under cover of the night, and climbed down 
on the ensuing day, in both cases defying and 
defeating all observation? Memnon could not, 
like the famous chess-playing automaton forty 
years ago at the Crystal Palace, be occasionally 
withdrawn from view while the operator effected 
his ingress or egress. He sat in staring isolation 
upon the open plain, whence he could be seen for 
miles, where sceptical spirits must have kept watch 
through many a night and day, and where we are 
justified in declaring that such a design would 
have been quite incapable of execution. Finally, 
how comes it that for one thousand five hundred 
years after the erection of the Colossi, and long 
after the Greeks under the Ptolemaic Dynasty 
had entered Egypt, not a breath was whispered of 



130 TALES OF TRAVEL 

the marvel; whilst two hundred and twenty years 
later, after an interval, as we are required to be- 
lieve, but as was never even insinuated at the time, 
of highly successful charlatanry, the jugglers sud- 
denly lost their cunning, and the miracle ceased at 
the very moment when such a witness to paganism 
would have been of inestimable value as a set-off 
to the growing popularity of the Christian faith? 
Did the Egyptian priesthood enter upon an orbit 
of deceit twenty years B.C., and complete it two 
hundred years a.d., being, as it were, in apogee in 
the reign of Hadrian? Above all, can we possibly 
mistake the import of the fact that the period 
during which Memnon spoke was precisely co- 
extensive with the period during which he re- 
mained shattered and unrepaired — a condition 
which presented no further, but, on the contrary, 
considerably less, advantages to the artifice than 
when he was whole? 

This also must be borne in mind, that, suppos- 
ing all such difiiculties removed, the sacerdotal 
caste had not the shghtest interest in practising 
the fraud. Memnon was not a national or local 
divinity; he had no temple, and was not wor- 
shipped save by superstitious tourists at Thebes; 
there is not a shred of evidence to show that in the 
native mind any religious or devotional idea what- 
ever was connected either with the statue or with 
the phenomenon; among the multitude of inscrip- 
tions upon the legs there is not a single one in 
Egyptian characters, demotic or hieroglyphic. On 
the contrary, we have seen that the Thebans per- 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 131 

severed, in spite of the obstinate credulity of the 
Greek or Roman pilgrims, in offering a correct 
interpretation of the image; whilst one inscription 
on the left leg contains the remarkable and con- 
clusive statement that the name Amenoth and the 
title of an Egyptian king were given to it by the 
priests themselves/ 

I hold, then, that the case against the priests 
is quashed by the most overwhelming testimony, 
and that the theory of deception can no longer be 
sustained. And, therefore, I am driven to the 
other alternative; for, if the sound did not pro- 
ceed from human, manifestly it must have been 
due to natural, causes. So little, however, is it 
necessary to accept this solution as a pis alter that 
it will be found to be the only one with which all 
the data hitherto mentioned accord, and which at 
once explains and reconciles the seemingly con- 
flicting phenomena of the case. fWhen we remem- 
ber that the mysterious sound was not heard till 
the figure was broken in twain, nor after the frac- 
ture had been repaired; that it was heard either 
at or soon after sunrise, and at no other time of 
the day ; ^ and that it presented no particular uni- 
formity of occurrence or principle of manifesta- 

1 Corp. Insc. Graec. 4731. 

2 There are two inscriptions {Corp. Insc. Graec. 4722, 4725) in 
whicli its occurrence is apparently dated before sunrise; but the 
vagueness of the terms employed — in one case irplv irpdtTTjs ^pas, in 
the other -irplv a^7As deklo) — leaves us in doubt as to the precise 
hour intended. The " first hour " might signify either sunrise or 
the space of an hour following; the second phrase is still more am- 
biguous. The discrepancy, therefore, is one which cannot be pressed, 
and which, if proven, might be explained as the result either of 
exaggeration or of illusion. 



132 TALES OF TRAVEL 

tion — the conclusion irresistibly suggests itself 
that it was due to some peculiar relation between 
the warmth of the rising sun and the great block 
of cracked and sundered stone. If the action of 
solar heat can be shown without improbability to 
have produced the noise described, the various dif- 
ficulties that have been raised one and all disap- 
pear. The phenomenon cannot possibly have been 
regular in its occurrence or uniform in its moment 
of action, because on different days of the year 
the sun will have risen in a different quarter of 
the heavens, and with varying power — sometimes 
striking with vehement rays directly upon the 
statue, at others requiring to pierce through an 
envelope of mist or vapour before its genial 
warmth could reach that riven heart of stone. 
This was why Memnon replied to-day in a musical 
whisper, as though faintly acknowledging the 
salute, to-morrow with a sharper intonation, as 
though smitten with sudden pain; why he proved 
no respecter of persons, and drew no distinction 
between the humble legionary and the crowned 
Caesar; why to some of his worshippers he spoke 
with such gracious iteration, to others was so in- 
exorably or incontinently dumb. The power that 
was in him was communicated from without, and 
could not be exercised save at the instance of 
another. Though his lyre was ready strung, the 
only fingers that could awake its music were the 
rays of Phoebus Apollo. 

Such is the line of reasoning that appeals to 
those who hold, with me, that the explanation of 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 133 

the mystery is to be sought in natural causes, and 
who believe that the sound was in some way or 
other due to the expansion in the stone of which 
the base was composed, brought about by the sud- 
den rise in temperature at dawn. The transition 
from comparative chilliness to sensible warmth is 
often very rapid in those climes, the sun on clear 
mornings diffusing a penetrating glow almost the 
moment he has topped the horizon, and speedily 
exhausting the dews or vapours of the night. In 
these circumstances, a physical change of a some- 
what marked description in the substances affected 
is not surprising, and much more when, as in this 
case, the particular substance affected was a 
siliceous conglomerate peculiarly lacking in homo- 
geneity of composition, and with its natural co- 
herence still further impaired by numerous acci- 
dental cracks and fissures. Such an object would 
be extremely susceptible of thermometric varia- 
tions, and might be compared to a stringed instru- 
ment, the chords of which were over-tautly 
stretched. 

Nor is this hypothesis left to stand alone, for it 
is supported by other well-attested instances in 
which sounds of musical quality have been known 
to emanate from stones or rocks at sunrise. One 
of the most frequently quoted is the phenomenon 
reported by Baron von Humboldt as occurring on 
the banks of the Orinoco, where tones as of an 
organ are heard to proceed at that hour from some 
granite rocks permeated with deep and narrow 
crevices. Humboldt did not, as is frequently 



134 TALES OF TRAVEL 

alleged, hear the music himself, but he described 
it as being testified to by reliable witnesses, in- 
cluding the European missionaries, who called 
the sounding stones loaias de musica. He himself 
attributed the sound to currents of heated air 
escaping through the crevices. The sonorous 
properties of certain sand-slopes or hills in dif- 
ferent parts of the world, especially in Asia, are 
to be referred to quite different causes, and though 
quoted by Sir D. Brewster and others, when 
speaking of Memnon, cannot be accepted as pre- 
senting any analogy. But the members of the 
French Scientific Commission sent by Napoleon I. 
in the wake of his maurauding column up the 
Nile (who, having anticipated Wilkinson in his 
wholesale scepticism about the Memnon, may be 
claimed as unbiassed witnesses) left on record that 
on two occasions — once in the granite quarries of 
Syene, and again in one of the temples of 
Karnak — ^they heard at sunrise the same strange 
crackling sound, reminding them of the simile 
employed by Pausanias, viz., of a snapping chord. 
Sir A. Smith and a party even heard, or thought 
they heard, the soimd proceeding from the pedes- 
tal of Memnon himself.^ Dr. Brugsch also testi- 
fied to having heard a similar note in 1851 among 
the ruins of Karnak. These parallel cases are 
valuable, both as proofs that the vocal Memnon 
was not a unique portent, and as buttresses to the 
theory of natural causation. 

Whilst, however, the miracle has been generally 

"^Bevue Encyclopedique, 1821, vol. ix., p. 592. 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 135 

attributed by this school of scientific exegesis to 
the action of the sun's rays upon the chilled stone, 
different and inconsistent explanations of the pre- 
cise physical origin of the sound have been ad- 
vanced by various writers. Some, like Humboldt, 
have believed it to be due to the passage of quick 
currents of air set in motion by the sudden change 
of temperature through the crevices of the shat- 
tered monolith. But in that case one is tempted 
to ask why the same result should not have been 
produced by other and still more favourable 
atmospheric conditions, such, for instance, as the 
prevalence of a high wind. Others have imagined 
that under the influence of the sudden heat small 
fragments of the stone, which was without doubt 
extremely elastic in nature, splintered and broke 
off with a ringing noise. But, were that so, the 
phenomenon should have been visible as well as 
audible, and there can be no reason why it should 
not be repeated to this hour. Others, again, and 
these are the majority, laying stress upon the 
heterogeneous ingredients of the stone, have sup- 
posed a slight superficial rupture between its com- 
ponent particles, resulting in a sharp vibration. 
If, however, the integral quality of the stone were 
alone concerned, the southern statue, which was 
hewn from the same quarries, ought to have been 
no less amenable to caloric influence, and should 
have divided with Memnon the prerogative of 
speech. 

In my opinion, the phenomenon can only be 
satisfactorily explained by bearing in mind and 



136 TALES OF TRAVEL 

correlating two separate factors of the case — viz., 
(1) the composition of the stone, already de- 
scribed, and (2) the abnormal condition of the 
statue during the period of vocality, consequent 
upon the damage wrought by the earthquake. By 
this convulsion Memnon was not only severed in 
twain, but' shaken to his foundations, deflected 
from his original level, and scarred by innumer- 
able seams and rents, one of which, as has been 
shown, almost bisected his still surviving half. To 
account for the production of the sound, we must 
believe that in one or other of these cracks there 
occurred, under the waxing heat of the solar rays, 
a sudden displacement of some movable portion 
of the figure, an instantaneous shifting or rub- 
bing of one face of stone upon another — in short, 
a disturbance of physical continuity sufficiently 
violent in its operation to communicate a sonorous 
shock to the atmospheric medium, through which 
it reached the ear of the listener outside. The 
phenomenon would then be analogous to the com- 
monplace incident of the cracking of an iron bar 
in a grate under the growing heat of a powerful 
fire, or to the spasmodic ringing of a newly ignited 
stove. Among those who accept the natural ex- 
planation, there are some who, as I have hinted, 
have attributed the music to the whistling of the 
wind through the fissures caused by the earth- 
quake. I see no reason, however, for thinking that 
the wind played any part in the phenomenon. 
The dawn in the East is commonly a very tran- 
quil scene. 



THE VOICE OF MEMNON 137 

Whether I have supplied the true interpreta- 
tion or not — and the opportunity of scientific 
proof can unfortunately never be obtained ^^ — in 
this direction lies, as it seems to me, the only pos- 
sibility of successfully prosecuting the inquiry. 
Human agency, I claim at least to have shown, 
was utterly unconcerned in the manifestation; and 
if Nature, the great Thaumaturgus, has in the 
Vocal Memnon propounded an enigma of which it 
is beyond the scope of existing knowledge to sup- 
ply more than a hypothetically correct solution — 
if she whispered to those two centuries of a bygone 
world a secret to which no Prometheus has yet 
revealed the key — let us be content to recognise in 
the mystery an additional tribute to the manifold 
dispensations of her genius. 

And here, well satisfied if in the above remarks 
I have removed any prevalent misapprehensions 
or diffused a more accurate knowledge about this 
interesting statue, I take leave of the colossal pair 
still seated on the Theban plain in sublime uncon- 
sciousness of the varying sentiments which they 
have excited in the breasts of so many successive 
generations. There they sit, the two giant breth- 
ren, scorched by the suns of more than three thou- 
sand summers, ringed by unnumbered yearly em- 
braces of the wanton stream. By their side Stone- 
henge is a plaything, the work of pigmies. They 

1 Unless, indeed, the upper half were again dismantled and the 
statue restored to its mutilated condition — an experiment which 
might be recommended could we be certain that the base had not 
been tampered with, and its vocal capacities irremediably destroyed 
by the repairs of Septimius Severus. 



138 TALES OF TRAVEL 

are first even among the prodigies of Egypt; more 
solemn than the Pyramids, more sad than the 
Sphinx, more amazing than the pillared avenues 
of Karnak, more tremendous than the rock-idols 
of Aboo-Simbel. There they sit, patient and pa- 
thetic, their grim obliterated faces staring out into 
vacancy, their ponderous limbs sung in a per- 
petual repose, indifferent alike to man and to 
Nature, careless of the sacrilege that has been per- 
petrated upon the mortal remains of the royal 
house whose glories they portrayed, steadfast 
while empires have crumbled and dynasties de- 
clined, serene amid all the tides of war and rapine 
and conquest that have ebbed and flowed from 
Alexandria to Assouan. There they sit and doubt- 
less will sit till the end of all things — sedent 
aeternumque sedebunt — a wonder and a witness 
to men. 



Four 
THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 



Four: 
THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 

The fall of waters ! rapid as the light 
The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss; 
The Hell of Waters ! where they howl and hiss 
And boil in endless torture. 

Byron, Childe Harold, Canto IV., St. 69. 

WHEN I was President of the Royal Geo- 
graphical Society I collected and pre- 
sented to the Society, where they were hung in 
one of the rooms, a series of large-scale photo- 
graphs of the great waterfalls of the world. I do 
not suggest that great waterfalls are more won- 
derful or more inspiring than great mountains, — 
for indeed it is ridiculous to compare the two, — 
but they are much more rare, and they combine in 
a peculiar degree the qualities of beauty and 
power. In the first place, the known great 
waterfalls of the world (I exclude cataracts and 
rapids) can be counted on the fingers of the two 
hands, whereas the famous mountain spectacles 
may be numbered by thousands. Secondly, even 
if we cannot go to the Himalayas, a few hours' 
journey will show us scenes of exquisite mountain 
glory on the European continent. On the other 
hand, the great waterfalls are not to be found in 
Europe at all. To visit them we have to travel 
thousands of miles; and the majority of their 

141 



142 TALES OF TRAVEL 

number are so remote that till within the last 
quarter of a century they were still imknown to 
the white man, and even now have not been seen 
by more than a few score of Europeans. And 
finally there is something in the setting and the 
movement of the falls, — the smooth slide of the 
great river over the lip of the abyss; the crash of 
the waters as they plunge into the chasm or are 
shivered on the rocks below; the smoke-spray now 
rising in mighty columns into the sky, now drift- 
ing, interlaced with rainbows, in the breeze; the 
framework of vegetation, tropical, it may be, in 
its superb luxuriance; and lastly the course of the 
current, as collecting itself after the leap it tears 
its way, often through gorges of indescribable 
grandeur, — there is something in all this that pre- 
sents a variety of effect, both sensational and 
aesthetic, with which even the greatest of moun- 
tains, immovable and unchanging in its bulk, 
austere in its snowy purity, terrible in its majesty, 
and remote with its unsealed precipices and its un- 
trodden peaks, cannot vie. Another element of 
difference is that while the mountains have no 
voice but that of the storm, the great waterfall 
never ceases to thunder even under the brightest 
of skies, and fills the spectator with awe as well 
as admiration. 

Fortune has never enabled me to visit the 
magnificent Falls of Kaietuk (commonly called 
Kaieteur) in British Guiana, where the River 
Potaro, a confluent of the Essequibo, hurls itself 
into a basin 740 feet below; nor the Iguasu Falls 



THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 143 

of the Parana River in the Argentine, rushing 
through an archipelago of islands and plunging 
into a gorge of surpassing beauty; nor the 
Tequendama Falls, nearly 450 feet high, near 
Bogota in Colombia; nor the Grand Falls of 
Labrador — all of the above in the American Con- 
tinent; nor again the Orange River Falls in South 
Africa, the ugliest waterfall, situated in the most 
repellent surroundings, in the world. As these 
are so little known I add a chapter about them 
and about some others which may be of interest 
to those who desire to study and to visit these 
wonders of Nature. 

But I have seen Niagara, of which I will say 
nothing, except that man is hard at work despoil- 
ing and defaming this masterpiece of Nature; the 
two falls of the Yellowstone; the various water- 
falls of the Yosemite, of which something will be 
said in my second volume; the wonder-spot of 
Gersoppa in South India; and the Victoria Falls 
of the Zambesi, which, as perhaps the most aston- 
ishing of all, I propose here to describe. 

Known to the natives as Mosioatunya or the 
Smoke Sounding, they were first discovered by 
Livingstone in 1855. Now that the country, in 
British hands, has been opened up by the railway, 
they are accessible to any one who, being in South 
Africa, can spare the time for the long journey 
from Cape Town or Natal to the river. Of such 
a scene a photograph is more eloquent than any 
description; nor am I clear that any word-picture 
of any great waterfall that I have ever read has 



144 TALES OF TRAVEL 

given me an adequate idea of the reality. If, then, 
I reproduce what I wrote about the Victoria 
Falls, directly I had seen them, it is not so much 
that I hope to succeed where others have failed, 
as that, having penned the following words in the 
train that took me away from the Zambesi, they 
may possess the slight merit of a vivid and un- 
blurred impression. 

In all countries where there is a dry and a wet 
season a waterfall will differ greatly at different 
seasons of the year. Gersoppa is nearly dry be- 
fore the end of the cold weather; but after the 
rains the volume of water discharged into the 
chasm, which is nearly 900 feet in sheer depth, is 
so great that the fall itself is rendered invisible 
by the spray. The same holds true of the Victoria 
Falls. They are at their lowest before the rains, 
which begin in December; and visitors in the dry 
season — Le,j, between September and December — 
console themselves for the relatively meagre wisps 
and driblets of water which in many parts of the 
fall are all that come over the edge, by the better 
opportunities that they enjoy of examining the 
walls of the great chasm which the resistless river 
has been eating through unnumbered ages into the 
heart of the black basalt. At that season a man 
can wade across many parts of the river at no 
great distance from the top of the fall, for the 
water is seldom more than two feet to three feet 
in depth, and often much less. Large sections of 
the black cliff are entirely exposed, and it is pos- 
sible to walk out from Cataract Island or froni 



THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 145 

Livingstone Island, which are both on the top of 
the falls, and to stand on the very brink of the 
naked edge. The Devil's Cataract, adjoining the 
left bank, and the Rainbow Fall, in the centre, are 
then the only considerable mass of water; and, as 
appears from the photographs that are taken at 
that period, even the Rainbow Fall, which was of 
surpassing grandeur when I saw it, and presented 
an uninterrupted sheet of water, is split up into 
separate cascades. On the other hand, when the 
sun is shining, which it is more apt to do in the 
dry weather, the effect of the rainbows, tilted 
against the fall at innumerable angles, and follow- 
ing the spectator with their scintillating hoops as 
he moves, is finer and more constant. 

It is in April and May, when, though the rain 
has ceased at the falls, the swollen water from the 
uplands far in the interior reaches them, that they 
are at their highest, and then the river pours in a 
flood hke that of Niagara over the lip, and plunges 
in an unbroken sheet into the shrouded abyss 
below. This must be a glorious spectacle. But 
such is the density and fury of the spray-storm 
rising into the air like the smoke of some vast 
cauldron, that the spectator within 100 yards of 
the cataract can see nothing at all, and gets little 
beyond a drenching for his pains. 

Perhaps a visitor at the " mean " epoch — Le.j 
when the rains have been sufficient to fill the river 
and produce a great mass of water, but not so 
overwhelming as to blot out the view — is the most 
fortunate. Anyhow these differences of season 



146 TALES OF TRAVEL 

and their effects are enough to account for the 
widely different verdicts that have been passed 
upon the Victoria Falls by those who have de- 
scribed them. They are also responsible for the 
complete inadequacy of any photographic repre- 
sentation to do justice to the majestic grandeur 
of the scene. It is clear that, when the river is in 
flood and the falls are concealed behind an im- 
penetrable screen of spray, no camera can be used 
with effect. This explains why the majority of 
illustrations in books, which were naturally taken 
under favourable conditions of sky and sun, are 
so inadequate. At low water the photographer, 
or, for the matter of that, the sightseer, should 
be warned off. 

One of the glories of Niagara is the great sweep 
of water, deep and swift and irresistible, in the 
bed of the river above the cataract. The Zambesi 
presents a very different spectacle. Although at 
a short distance above the falls it expands into a 
broad lake, where regattas can be held and sailing 
is a safe and agreeable pastime, as it approaches 
the hidden chasm it becomes parcelled up into 
innumerable channels and rapids running through 
boulders and between grassy tufts and islets, and 
is in many parts fordable in dry weather. A 
canoe can then take the sightseer with perfect 
safety to any of the larger islands, and will prob- 
ably run aground on the way. The two islands 
most commonly visited, because they are on the 
lip of the fall, are Cataract Island and Living- 
stone Island; on the latter, the tree upon which 




[147 



THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 149 

the great missionary-traveller cut his initials still 
exists (although no trace of the inscription sur- 
vives) and is not by any means dying, as the 
guide-books say. From either of these islands 
some of the most awe-inspiring views of the falls 
can be obtained. 

This breaking-up of the river above the falls, 
giving it the appearance of pushing its way 
through a rock-strewn trough or shallow depres- 
sion in the surrounding jungle, rather than of car- 
rying islands upon a broad and liquid bosom, is 
perhaps disappointing to the stranger, and ren- 
ders it surprising that so relatively moderate a 
volume of water — ^though more than a mile in 
width — can produce so amazing a spectacle when 
it falls. It also explains why the crest of the 
cataract, instead of being, as at Niagara, a glit- 
tering sweep of green, curving like some mon- 
strous billow to the fall, is broken into separate 
foaming channels, which sometimes swerve asun- 
der as they leap the edge, and are churned in 
rocky saucers at the very summit of the cataract, 
before they take the final plunge. 

But, the edge once passed, the Victoria Falls 
appeared to me when I saw them in the month of 
January, to excel in grandeur any spectacle of 
the same kind in the world. For they possess two 
incomparable features. In the first place, the 
cliff-wall down which they are hurled is sheer from 
top to bottom, 350 feet to 400 feet of perpen- 
dicular descent, uninterrupted save where in some 
places gigantic masses of basalt, split off or eroded 



150 TALES OF TRAVEL 

by the same process as has formed the chasm itself, 
lie at the base and shatter the descending columns 
into a tempest of foam. Conceive a black wall, as 
high as Shakespeare's Cliff at Dover, nearly as 
high as the Cross of St. Paul's, and more than a 
mile in length, and over the top of this tremen- 
dous precipice a continuous cataract of water top- 
pling down from the sky, save in the three places 
where larger islands, carrying their growth of 
jungle right to the edge of the abyss, have pro- 
tected a section of the cliff, and interposed a 
gleaming surface of ebon rock between the snowy 
fleeces of the falls on either side. 

The second feature is more remarkable still. 
The majority of falls»can only be seen at an angle 
from the banks of the river below, or from a con- 
siderable distance, should the river make a bend, 
or from some convenient artificial stand-point, like 
the Suspension Bridge at Niagara. But here, at 
the Zambesi, Nature herself has supphed the most 
wonderful platform which it is possible to con- 
ceive, with belvederes or outlook towers built out 
at convenient points for the spectator to take his 
view. The formation of the gorge is responsible 
for this astounding feature. Although the river 
discharges itself in an almost straight line (unlike 
the great curve of the Horseshoe Fall at Niagara) 
into the chasm below, there is only one outlet from 
this chasm, and that is about three-quarters of the 
way across from the right or southern bank, where 
the entire water that has come over the fall forces 
its way through a single aperture only 100 yards 



THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 151 

wide into the whirlpool known as the Boiling Pot, 
and commences its zigzag descent through the 45 
miles of canon towards the sea. 

The consequence is that except at this spot the 
entire volume of water as it falls is pent up in the 
chasm, which is seldom more than 150 yards in 
width, and has to flow from left to right in order 
to make its way out by the solitary gap. And 
here comes Nature's unique gift. From left to 
right or from right to left we can walk along the 
near side of the chasm from end to end, save at 
the point of exit, and gaze at the falls immediately 
opposite, as though we were standing in some 
showman's panorama, and were looking across an 
intervening hollow, devised to assist the illusion, 
at the painted canvas beyond. Only here is no 
artificial picture, but the living masterpiece of a 
more than human showman; tangible, because the 
scud of the spray-storm lashes us in the face; 
throbbing with movement, because the heaven 
above and the earth beneath appear to be equally 
in travail ; audible, because in our ears is the rattle 
of eternal thunder. 

The main portion of the bank which provides 
this great natural stage or platform — stretching 
from the southern end of the falls, where is the 
Devil's Cataract, to the gap through which the 
entire river charges into the Boiling Pot — is the 
well-known Rain Forest. The name is appro- 
priate as well as picturesque, for the spray from 
the falls, rising in a stupendous column from the 
chasm below, falls in an incessant rain-shower on 



152 TALES OF TRAVEL 

this tongue of land — ^three parts tree- jungle and 
one part grass; a rain so overpowering that it 
drips in torrents from every branch and leaf, rus- 
tles in the coarse grass, lies in pools on the ground, 
and in a very few minutes soaks the sightseer to 
the skin. 

Along this strip of land, which constitutes the 
eastern boundary wall of the chasm, and is exactly 
on a level with the lip of the falls, a pathway has 
been made through the sodden grass and the drip- 
ping trees; and from this pathway, at the distance 
of every 50 to 100 yards, smaller tracks strike out 
to the vantage points at the edge of the chasm, 
which I have likened to belvederes. At any one 
of these bastions a man can walk to the very 
brink ; immediately opposite him, and so close that 
he can almost pitch a stone into it, is the descend- 
ing wall of foam; and from the pit below there 
leaps up in volleys like small-shot, and with a fury 
that blinds and stuns, the eternal spray-storm. 
Sometimes it completely obscures the cataract, 
only a few hundred feet at the most away, and 
renders it almost impossible for a man to stand 
upright. Then, as it drifts with the wind, through 
the seams are visible the yellow and white crests 
as they flash along the opposing summit, and the 
descending squadrons as they pitch into the boom- 
ing depths below. 

There are many points of view from which we 
can study the mile-long race of water thundering 
like a cavalry charge to its doom, and then perish- 
ing in the clatter of its terrific downfall. We caa 




VICTORIA FALLS (RAIN FOREST ON LEFT) 



[153 



THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 155 

cross the gorge by the filigree span of the railway- 
bridge — an ornament rather than a desecration to 
the scene — and inspect the farthermost fall close 
to the northern bank; we can clamber along the 
thin serrated ridge of rock known as the Knife 
Edge, which connects the farther bank with a big 
rocky buttress, clothed from base to summit with 
forest trees, which here projects like a huge 
pyramid into the stream, and forms one pillar of 
the gateway through which the river rushes into 
the Boiling Pot 400 feet below; or, crossing again 
to the near bank, we can enter the Rain Forest 
and scramble out on to the aerial promontory 
known as Danger Point, where, crouching on a 
hummock of slippery stones, within a foot of the 
edge, we can look straight opposite, at what is 
called the Rainbow Fall. At the season at which 
I saw it this was by far the most imposing spec- 
tacle. The spray-storm surges upwards from the 
bottom of the chasm with a concussion like the 
firing of machine guns and with a force that takes 
away the breath. But as the mist-wreaths waver 
and divide, through the rifts are seen the parallel 
and interminable files of the cataract, careering 
to the edge and leaping it in a hurricane of foam. 
Here it is that the thunder echoes most loudly 
from the gloomy caverns of the abyss: here the 
stinging buffets of the whirlwind lash the face 
with the most pitiless fury; and here the smoke- 
clouds, spouting like portentous geyser- jets into 
the air, scatter aloft, and, dissolving, wreathe the 
chasm with a perpetual crown. 



156 TALES OF TRAVEL 

The next most imposing view is from Cataract 
Island. One can stand here on the upper lip of 
the fall and look down the whole length of the 
prodigious trench or fissure into which it plunges. 
The bottom is only dimly visible through the 
watery whirlwind, but now and again amid the 
swirl can be seen the sullen and foam-flecked sur- 
face of the river in the pool. From the jagged 
rocks at the bottom the foam spurts upwards with 
a rush like a thousand maroons, and the detona- 
tion claps from crag to crag as though concealed 
forces were firing volleys at each other from em- 
placements in the confronting cliffs. The phe- 
nomenon of the rising spray-storm is best studied 
from this point. For we can see, as the water 
splinters on the rocks or plunges into the pool at 
the bottom, how in ordinary circumstances it 
would explode outwards and spend its force in the 
open. Here, however, before it can do this the 
spray is beaten back by the opposite cliff, and is 
caught as it falls by the blasts of displaced air, 
and whirled aloft in a hurricane of sleet. As this 
shoots upward it impinges on the sides and sum- 
mit of the cliff, and streams down in innumerable 
minor cascades, destined to meet with the same 
fate again and again, as they are snatched up in 
the eddies of the revolving tempest and are swept 
once more into the air. No waterfall in the world 
can show any spectacle — ^though it is sound as well 
as sight — ^to compare with this. 

At one place on the farther or northern bank 
we can descend by a rocky path to the bottom of 




VICTORIA FALLS, MOUTH OF GORGE 



[157 



THE FALLS OF THE ZAMBESI 159 

the gorge, and, passing through the exquisite 
jungle known as the Palm Grove, where the 
fronds of the overhanging trees drip with an ever- 
lasting shower, can reach the level of the river, at 
the point where it forms the backwash of the Boil- 
ing Pot. This is not to be compared with the 
rapids or with the vast circular basin known as 
the Whirlpool at Niagara, for the torrent, as I 
saw it, showed no great violence, and the space is 
confined. A swimmer might have trouble in the 
eddies of the backwash, but there is no reason 
why he should be drowned. In fact, the Zambesi 
rapids are not at any point in the canon to be com- 
pared with those of Niagara, which battered the 
life out of Matthew Webb, and through which 
idiotic couples, tied up in padded mattresses in- 
side a cask, have sometimes won an inglorious way 
to lucre and an undeserved respite from the grave. 

The zigzags of the Zambesi Canon — again a 
result of the astounding geological formation — 
are an unparalleled feature, and it is possible at 
more than one spot, to stand on a ridge where on 
one side the river hundreds of feet below is rush- 
ing madly to the right, and on the other is cours- 
ing equally furiously to the left. But neither in 
the volume of water, in the mountainous billows 
thrown up by the rapids, nor in the breadth and 
tumult of the current can the Zambesi below the 
cataract be compared with Niagara. 

In scenery, the surroundings of the Victoria 
Falls greatly surpass their American rival. For 
every pinnacle and rocky buttress is ^clothed from 



160 TALES OF TRAVEL 

top to bottom, at least in the rainy season, with a 
clustering forest-growth; and the contrast of the 
white storm of the cataract and the gloomy swirl 
of the torrent with the brilliant green of the ver- 
dure amid which it pursues its course, is a fascina- 
tion that never palls. But here again, though we 
are in the tropics, the vegetation, with rare excep- 
tions, has none of the exuberance which those who 
know Asia associate with the term; and the sur- 
roundings of the Indian waterfalls immensely ex- 
ceed in natural beauty anything that the Zambesi 
can show. 

Thus we arrive at the conclusion that, while in 
secondary features the Zambesi Fall may yield to 
some of its competitors in other cHmes, in all those 
attributes which concern the fall itself, and are of 
primary value, it is pre-eminent, and may deserv- 
edly be called the greatest river-wonder in the 
world. Never can there fade from the mind of 
one who has seen it the vision of those towers of 
descending foam, the shouting face of the cataract, 
the thunder of the watery phalanxes as they 
charge and reel and are shattered in the bottom 
of the abyss, or the spray-spumes whizzing up- 
wards like a battery of rockets into the air. As 
the train plunges slowly into the forest and takes 
us back into the every-day world, the mist-clouds 
steaming like smoke through the trees and form- 
ing a dense white canopy 1000 feet in height in 
the sky, and the low thunder, whose reverbera- 
tions still fill the air, conclude a unique experience 
and crown an imperishable memory. 



Five 

THE GREAT WATERFALLS OF 
THE WORLD 



Five 

THE GREAT WATERFALLS OF THE 
WORLD 

The sounding cataract 
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock^ 
The mountain^ and the deep and gloomy wood. 

Wordsworth^ " Tintern Abbey." 

IN the preceding chapter I have incidentally 
mentioned some of the great waterfalls of the 
world, other than those of the Zambesi, which I 
there described. I append a few words here about 
their features and dimensions, and may add that 
I know of no place where the same information, 
which is the result of a good deal of research, can 
be found collected. 

North America 

Niagara^ of which I refrain from adding one 
more to the countless descriptions by much more 
gifted pens, was the first of the great falls that 
was known to the white man. It was first re- 
ported by Samuel Champlain in 1613, and first 
seen by Father Hennepin in 1677. But so dazed 
was he by the sight, or so prone to exaggeration, 
that in the first edition of his book (1683) he made 
the height 500 feet, and in the second edition 
(1697) 600 feet. The actual dimensions are: Ca- 

163 



164 TALES OF TRAVEL 

nadian Fall, 158 feet, American Fall, 162-169 
feet. 

The Grand Falls of Labrador, which are on the 
Grand or Hamilton River, were discovered in 
1839 by John McLean. A mile above the falls 
the river is 400 yards wide; but it then contracts 
as it passes through a series of rapids until at the 
escarpment it is only 50 yards in width. The 
sheer fall is 316 feet in depth, and the roar is 
heard at a distance of 20 miles. Immediately 
below the falls the river turns sharply to the 
south-east and rushes through a canon 25 miles 
long, the cliffs of which are 400 feet high. The 
Indian name for the falls is Pat-ses-Che-wan, ix,, 
" The narrow place where the water falls." These 
falls, which are of great splendour, have, owing 
to the difficulty of access, been seen by but few 
Europeans. 

The Yosemite Falls, — It is not necessary to do 
more than allude here to these famous Calif ornian 
Falls (a description of which will be found in 
my second volume), since they are so well known 
and have been visited by so many thousands of 
persons. Their surroundings, in which every 
grace of beauty is combined with every element 
of grandeur, make them perhaps the most ex- 
quisite of all the world waterfalls, although 
in volume and awe-inspiring quality they are not 
to be compared with the great river falls that I 
have elsewhere described. They were only dis- 
covered by white men as recently as 1850. The 
triple Yosemite Fall consists of three cascades, re- 




KAIETBUR FALLS IN DEY SEASON 



[165 



GREAT WATERFALLS 167 

spectively 1600, 634, and 400 feet high, or a total 
of 2634 feet. The Vernal Falls are 400 feet. The 
Nevada Fall is 640 feet. The beautiful Bridal 
Veil, so often photographed against its background 
of ebon rock, is 900 feet. These falls, however, 
being fed by no great volume of water, except 
after heavy rain, are as a rule more beautiful than 
imposing, their height and volume being both 
dwarfed by their stupendous setting. 

I have not included in this list the Falls of the 
Yellowstone River in the Yellowstone Park, which 
I have also seen, because they are much less re- 
markable than the gorge in which they are set, 
and are barely entitled to be included among the 
great waterfalls of the world. 

South America 

In this Continent, vrith its mighty rivers, its 
amazing scenery, and its still only half -revealed 
secrets, are to be foimd unquestionably the most 
remarkable series of waterfalls in the world. The 
majority of them are quite unknown in Europe, 
and are only slowly finding their way into geo- 
graphical writings. Were they more accessible 
they would attract admiring pilgrims from all 
parts of the globe. 

Kaietuk (commonly known as Kaieteur)^. — 
This, which is perhaps the most symmetrical and 
perfect of all the single falls, is to be found in 
British territory. It is on the Potaro River, a 
confluence of the Essequibo in British Guiana. It 



168 TALES OF TRAVEL 

was quite unknown until discovered in 1870 by C. 
Barrington Brown, Government Surveyor in that 
colony/ The name in the Indian dialect signifies 
Old Man Rock {tuk = rock), the story being that 
a venerable Indian, who had become a nuisance 
to his neighbours, was put into a bark-canoe and 
shot over the fall, which his spirit was supposed 
henceforward to haunt. 

The river Potaro, flowing through tropical veg- 
etation, is from 350 to 400 feet in width, and 20 
feet in depth in flood times, when it reaches the 
top of the chasm. Running at the rate of four 
miles an hour it precipitates itself in a sheer de- 
scent of 740 feet between rocky cliffs into the vast 
cauldron below; 500 cubic feet of water have been 
computed to plunge every minute into the depths. 
Behind the falls is an immense cavern in the cliff, 
into which myriads of black swallows continuously 
flash through the spray. The falls are believed 
once to have been much higher, the rock being of 
a soft and friable description. Correspondingly 
the gulf below is being gradually deepened. Some 
day regular expeditions will be organised from 
George Town to see this marvel, which, in the 
features before referred to, is, in my opinion, 
unique. 

Roraima and Kukenam. — Far inland on the bor- 
ders of the same British colony, where the frontiers 
of British Guiana, Brazil and Venezuela meet, are 
the two mountain wonders of Roraima and Ku- 

1 Camoe and Gamp Life in British Ouiama, pp. 203-5, 212-23. 
London, 1876. 



GREAT WATERFALLS 169 

kenam. Side by side, separated only by a deep 
and wooded gorge, these two great natural fort- 
resses rear their mighty bastions to a sheer height 
of from 1500 to 2000 feet from the forests and 
savannahs of the lower slopes, while their level 
summits are commonly enshrouded in roUing mists. 
In shape not unlike Cape Mountain, but more than 
double the height — since Kukenam is 7856 feet, 
and Roraima 8625 feet high — and each from 10 to 
12 miles in length, they are by far the most re- 
markable natural fortresses in the world. It is 
the water collected in pools and lakes on the rocky 
and boulder-strewn summits which, after rain, spills 
over the edge and drops for a sheer 1500 feet into 
the forest below, producing the waterfalls and cas- 
cades, with which the names of Roraima and 
Kukenam are linked. They are visible when in 
spate for an immense distance, hanging like snowy 
fleeces against the background of rose-red rock 
over which they plunge. When Tennyson, in find- 
ing a site for his Palace of Art, wrote: 

A huge crag-platform, smooth as burnished brass 

I chose. The ranged ramparts bright 
From level meadow-bases of deep grass 
Suddenly scaled the light. 

From those four jets four currents in one swell 

Across the mountain streamed below 
In misty folds, that floating as they fell 
Lit up a torrent-bow. 

it might well have been of Kukenam and Roraima 
that he sang. 



17a TALES OF TRAVEL 

Over three hundred years ago Sir Walter 
Raleigh must have heard both of Roraima and of 
its waterfalls, when he wrote: 

I was informed of the moimtain of Christall, to which 
in trueth for the length of the way, and the evil season 
of the yeare, I was not able to march nor abide any 
longer upon the journey; we saw it a farre off, and it 
appeared like a white Churche towre of an exceeding 
height. There f alleth over it a mightie river which touch- 
eth no part of the side of the mountaine, but rusheth 
over the top of it, and falleth to the grounde with a 
terrible noyse and clamor, as if 1000 great belles were 
knockt one against another. I think there is not in the 
world so strange an overfall, nor so wonderfull to be- 
holde; Berreo told me it hath diamondes and other 
precious stones on it, and that they shined very farre off ; 
but what it hath, I knowe not, neither durst he nor any 
of his men ascende to the toppe of the saide mountaine, 
those people adjoyning being his enemies, and the way 
to it is so impassible.-"^ 

Sir Robert SchomburgK saw Roraima as far 
back as 1838 and 1842, but did not come close to 
either mountain. C. Barrington Brown, the sur- 
veyor, whom I have already mentioned, when ex- 
ploring on the Upper Mazaruni River in 1870, 
saw from a distance of 38 miles an enormous 
waterfall leaping from the north-east face of 
Roraima, and described it as the highest waterfall 
in the world. This was the fall seen by J. W. 

^Discovery of Qma/na (Hakluyt Society), 1848, p. 101. 




KAIETEUR FALLS IN FLOOD 



[171 



GREAT WATERFALLS 173 

Boddam-Whetham in 1878, and thus described by 
him: 

Towards the northern end of the mountain, a mag- 
nificent cascade, whose lip seemed to be below the sum- 
mit, sprang in a broad silvery arch right down into the 
green depths, barely touching the rocky wall in its de- 
scent/ 

Both of these travellers, and others after them, 
who visited the spot, declared Roraima to be un- 
scalable, and serious writers speculated upon the 
unknown fauna — survivals of a prehistoric era — 
that might be found on the summit. Upon this 
foundation Conan Doyle built one of his most 
imaginative stories.^ It was reserved for Sir 
Everard im Thurn, who was determined to pene- 
trate the mystery, in company with H. I. Perkins, 
to discover a sloping ledge by which it is possible 
alternately to creep and chmb up the south-west 
wall of Roraima; and along this ledge subsequent 
explorers, including one lady,^ have mounted to 
the plateau at the top. 

I can recall no more exciting moment in the 
history of travel than when, on the morning of 
December 18, 1884, im Thurn, having scaled the 
crag-wall, peered over the broken edge, and looked, 
for the first time, so far as is known in the history 
of man, upon the summit of Roraima. A wilder- 

1 Roraima amd British Chiiana, p. 228. London, 1879. 

2 The Lost World. London, 1912. 

3 Mrs. Cecil Clementi, Through British Guia/na to the 8ummit of 
Roraima. London, 1920. 



174 ,TALES OF TRAVEE 

ness of uncouth boulders and pinnacles and jum- 
bled cliffs met his eye — interspersed with water- 
holes and pools and tarns, the feeding-ground of 
the far-seen cascades. Two of these falls he es- 
pecially noticed, that on the southern face of 
Roraima, over 1000 feet high, which feeds the 
Kamaiun River, and that on the opposite face of 
Kukenam, 1300 feet in height, which is the source 
of the Kukenam River. 

I have dwelt at some length on the Falls of 
Roraima and Kukenam, partly because of their 
strange and fantastic surroundings, partly because, 
although not permanent river falls in the ordinary 
sense of the term, the catchment area being far 
too small, they are yet, when in flow, in all prob- 
ability the highest uninterrupted falls in the world, 
and, owing to the rains and mists which continually 
envelop the summit of the two mountains like a 
cap, are almost invariably in action. I would 
sooner myself see Roraima and Kukenam, with 
these white banners hung against their crimson 
ramparts, than almost any natural spectacle in 
the world. 

The Ghmyra Falls on the Parana in Brazil are 
not really a waterfall, but are an amazing series 
of cataracts, the finest in the South American Con- 
tinent. 

The Tequendama Falls on the Bogota or Funza 
River in Ecuador, only 17 miles from the capital 
city of Bogota, are situated in lovely scenery, an 
amphitheatre of forest-clad hills sloping to the 
edge of a rock-walled gorge. Above the escarp- 




[175 



GREAT WATERFALLS 177 

ment the river contracts to a width of 20-30 yards, 
and the sheer fall is 443 feet (Humboldt miscal- 
culated it at 574 feet) . Owing to the small volume 
of water in the river this fall is to be classed with 
Gersoppa in South India rather than with its 
greater rivals. 

The Iguasu Falls, on the Argentine-Brazilian 
border, are on the Curutiba River, an eastern 
affluent of the great Parana River, and in their 
contour and dimensions somewhat resemble Niag- 
ara, being 50 feet higher and 1250 feet broader 
than the latter. The scenery and vegetation are, 
however, far more beautiful. The river is nearly 
two miles wide at some distance above the falls, 
but contracts to a total width of 1365 yards before 
it takes the plunge, which is 170 feet in depth. 
The fall is divided by rocky pinnacles and islands 
into three sections, the Brazilian Fall, 2000 feet 
wide, in shape resembling a horse-shoe (like the 
Canadian Fall of Niagara), the Insular Fall, and 
the Argentine Fall, which is a double fall of 189 
feet, and is 1200 feet in width. Much of the river, 
as it falls, spills on to lower ledges of rock, throw- 
ing up immense clouds of spray and producing a 
reverberation which is heard for miles. A column, 
as it were of white smoke, floats eternally above 
the war of waters; and the mise en scene is equal, 
if not superior to, that of any other great fall. 
Below the falls the river is pent between narrow 
cliffs of rock which are not more than 400 feet 
apart. The whole is framed in the most luxuriant 
tropical vegetation. 



178 TALES OF TRAVEL 

Laja River Falls in Chile. — This river is the 
main branch of the Rio Bobbio, which debouches 
into the Pacific near Concepcion. The falls, like 
those of Niagara, are twofold, being separated by 
a rocky and wooded island which descends to the 
level of the pool. But they are of inferior altitude, 
being only 106 feet high. 

Africa 

The Great Falls of Aughrabies on the Orange 
River, situated 80 miles from the town of Uping- 
ton, were discovered by George Thompson in 1824. 
These are the most unapproachable and the least 
beautiful of all the great falls of the world, be- 
ing situated in a country destitute of all vegeta- 
tion or indeed of any sign of life. The Orange 
River, which is a mile wide some distance above 
the main fall, is then split up into a number of 
channels by boulder-strewn granitic islands and 
masses of rock, until it is barely 60 feet wide at 
the lip of the main fall, which plunges for a sheer 
400 feet into a sullen abyss. Thence for many 
miles it races through a gloomy and inaccessible 
canon, the walls of which are nearly 500 feet high, 
emerging later on near the border of what was 
formerly German South- West Africa. Meanwhile 
many other cascades drop laterally into the gorge, 
which presents a spectacle of gigantic buttresses, 
sheer precipices, and appalling desolation. • When 
the river is in flood the torrent overlaps the chute 
and becomes a raging cataract, sweeping every- 




THE GERSOPPA FALLS 



[179 



GREAT WATERFALLS 181 

thing before it. In this condition it is unapproach- 
able, and has never been seen by any white man. 
Though far from remote it is for the above reasons 
the least known, and perhaps the least visited of 
all the great falls of the world. 

India 

Gersoppa or Gairseppa Falls (also known as 
Jog) . — These are situated on the river Sharavati, 
which divides the Bombay Presidency from the 
Native State of Mysore, and are 35 miles distant 
by road from the small seaport of Honavar, itself 
350 miles south of Bombay. During the monsoon, 
i.e., in June, July, and August, when the river is 
in flood, the falls are so swathed in mist as to be 
invisible, and nothing is heard but the thunder 
booming up from the abyss. In winter, however, 
which was the season of my visit (November 1900) , 
the channel above the falls is not more than 80 
yards in width, and can be crossed by light bridges 
thrown from island to island. The great beauty 
of the falls, which are four in number, the Raja 
or main fall on the right bank, the Roarer, the 
Rocket (so-called because it spurts in a series of 
jets), and La Dame Blanche (a white sheet of 
foam), consists in the depth of the fall, which is 
830 feet sheer, the two first-named falls meeting 
in the course of their descent, and in the exquisite 
framing of the tropical forest. Owing to the con- 
figuration of the ground the Gersoppa Falls can 
also be seen to greater advantage than almost any 



182 TALES OF TRAVEL 

other fall of corresponding height, and are being 
increasingly visited, mainly, owing to superior 
facilities of communication, from the Mysore side. 
The pool at the bottom of the falls, hollowed out 
by the force of the water, is 132 feet deep. I never 
remember a more beautiful sight than that of the 
falls from a terrace seat near the Mysore Rest 
House. Would I might sit there once again. 

Falls of the Cauvery, — I also saw the Falls of 
the Cauvery at Sivasamudram (on the boundary 
between Madras and Mysore), which are dis- 
charged over a chff 250 feet high, in a series of 
separate cascades of great size and volume. The 
two main falls are called respectively, in the native 
language, the Sky Spray and the Heavy Spray, 
and they vary at diflPerent seasons of the year from 
a roaring cataract to a vertical plunge. The water 
power thus generated has been harnessed for the 
service of man; and a little way down the stream 
on the left bank is the great station which trans- 
mits the power to the goldfields of Kolar, 90 miles 
distant, and to the cities of Bangalore and Mysore. 

New Zealand 

Few persons have seen the Sutherland Falls on 
the south-west coast of the Southern Island — so- 
called from their discoverer, a prospector of that 
name, who came upon them in the year 1879. The 
Falls, which are fed by the Arthur River, are sit- 
uated 16 miles from the head of Melford Sound, 
one of the great fiords that pierce the coast of the 



GREAT WATERFALLS 183 

island. They are three in number, resembhng in 
this respect the principal Yosemite Fall, the height 
of the three sections, which plunge over the edge 
of a vertical cliff into hollow basins or pools, be- 
ing respectively 815, 751, and 338 feet, or a total 
of 1904 feet. They are seen to the greatest ad- 
vantage in summer, when the snows are melting, 
and, as time passes, will be more and more recog- 
nised as one of the wonders of the southern hemi- 
sphere. 

My catalogue, thus completed, may turn out not 
to be exhaustive, since from time to time rumours 
are heard, usually in the still unexplored parts of 
South America, of great waterfalls known only 
to the natives and unseen by the white man. In 
due time every one of them will be discovered, and 
some later generation will more accurately tabu- 
late their characteristics and virtues. 



Six 
LEST WE FORGET " 



I 



Six 
"LEST WE FORGET" 

There is nothing new except what is forgotten. 

Anon. 

I 

The Death-bed of Sir Henry Lawrence 

ONE of the most remarkable phenomena in life 
is the carelessness with which people observe, 
or rather fail to observe, that which is daily and 
even hourly under their eyes, either paying no 
attention to it because it is so familiar, or failing 
to inquire from sheer lack of interest or curiosity. 
Of the millions of persons who pass in the year 
through Trafalgar Square, how many could tell 
you the number or identity of the bronze heroes 
who adorn or disfigure its open spaces? Not even 
the fact that he is riding without stirrups probably 
induces more than one passer-by in ten thousand 
to inquire who is the Royal horseman on a pedestal 
in the top left-hand corner. How many people 
who daily drive or ride past the nude Achilles in 
Hyde Park take the trouble to inquire how he 
came there or what he represents? Take an even 
stronger case. There are London streets which 
some of us traverse every day of our lives for 
years. If we were suddenly challenged to name 
either the order in which the shops occur for a 

187 



188 TALES OF TRAVEL 

distance of 100 yards on the side of the street 
which we affect, or still more the names, is there 
one in a hundred of us who could survive the 
ordeal? Familiarity breeds not merely contempt, 
but in the case of ordinary objects, or objects which 
we encounter every day, complete forgetfulness if 
we have ever known, complete indifference if we 
have not. 

In the course of my travels I have come across 
two cases of this indifference or forgetfulness, in 
circumstances where the very reverse might have 
been expected by every law of probability, so as- 
tonishing that it would have been impossible to 
believe them had they not actually occurred. In 
both cases I was the accidental means of detect- 
ing the lapse; and I owed the discovery to the 
habit which I have pursued in every one of my 
travels, and which I believe to be the secret of 
accurate observation — ^namely of acquainting one- 
self, so far as possible, with the facts of a case 
or the features of a scene before coming in con- 
tact with it. In this way you know what to ex- 
pect that you will find. But you are also in a 
position to note what is wanting either in the nar- 
ratives of your predecessors or in the situation 
itself. 

In December 1899 I paid my first official visit, 
as Viceroy of India, to Lucknow, and among my 
earliest proceedings was an inspection of the crum- 
bling ruins and consecrated grounds of the Resi- 
dency. They bear but slight resemblance now to 
the aspect they wore at the date of the famous 



" LEST WE FORGET " 189 

siege; for time and loving care have passed the 
tender fingers of obhvion over the scars, and have 
converted a heap of debris into an exquisite garden, 
from which emerge a few battered walls and skel- 
etons of buildings, embowered amid the luxuriant 
verdure. 

But the interest lies in them rather than in the 
pleasaunce, and any Englishman, at all familiar 
with the history of the Mutiny or the incidents of 
the siege, wanders eagerly from ruined building 
to building, or where they exist, from one shattered 
apartment to another, seeking to identify the actual 
scenes of so much suffering and so much glory. 

So familiar was I from previous reading with 
the incidents of the siege that I had no difficulty 
in moving from site to site and identifying the 
localities, in so far as they survive. After in- 
specting the Residency, I was conducted into an 
adjoining and semi-ruined building. On the bat- 
tered wall inside a great open verandah I saw a 
white marble tablet fixed, which contained this in- 
scription: 



Here Sir H. Lawrence died 
4th July 1857 



"With all respect," I said at once, "here Sir 
Henry Lawrence did not die." " But how," was 
the natural retort, " can that be? This inscrip- 
tion has been on the wall for fifty years — ever 
since the Residency was consecrated as a national 
memorial at the end of the Mutiny. Thousands 



190 TALES OF TRAVEL 

of persons who fought in the Mutiny have passed 
through the building since. Hundreds who were 
in the Residency at the time of the siege, and at 
the moment of Sir Henry's death, have visited the 
verandah. All of them have seen that tablet on 
the wall. Not one has ever questioned its accuracy. 
Can it have been reserved for you in the year 1899 
to correct an error that must have existed for half 
a century and to show that every one has hitherto 
been wrong? " " Yes," I said, " indeed it has, and 
I will ask leave to take the party to the inner 
room in which Sir Henry Lawrence actually did 
die." 

I then passed through the verandah to the inner 
room or drawing-room of Sir Joseph Fayrer's 
house (the building in question), and remarked 
that that was the spot where Sir Henry Lawrence 
had breathed his last. There was still general in- 
credulity as to my statement; whereupon, remem- 
bering that Sir Joseph Fayrer, who had tended 
Lawrence in his last hours, was still hving at the 
age of seventy-four in England, I suggested that 
a plan of the house and its apartments should be 
sent to him, without any mention of the dispute 
that had arisen, and that he should be asked to 
mark upon it the room and the spot where the 
hero's spirit had fled. 

After a time came back the plan with Fayrer's 
mark on the apartment and upon the place which 
I had indicated. The mendacious tablet was in 
due course removed and transferred to the correct 



" LEST WE FORGET " 193 

site, where it may be seen in the accompanying 
photograph. 

In the following year came out Sir Joseph 
Fayrer's book : ^ and in it were printed, not merely 
the details of Lawrence's last hours, but a copy 
of Lieut. Moorsom's plan of the Residency build- 
ings, made in 1857 (p. 130), and a plan (whether 
stimulated by my inquiry or not I do not know) 
of Dr. Fayrer's own house (p. 132). 

From these it will be seen that the injured man, 
mortally wounded by a shell on July 2, 1857, while 
lying on a couch in an upper room in the Resi- 
dency, had been carried over and laid down on a 
bed in the open verandah of Dr. Fayrer's house, 
whence after a time, owing to the severity of the 
fire, he was moved into the inner room or draw- 
ing-room where at 8 a.m. on the morning of July 4 
he expired. 

Apart from the interest of historical accuracy, 
I do not know that any vital importance attaches 
to the question whether even a great man and a 
hero breathed his last in this or that exact spot. 
But I have never ceased to be amazed at the heed- 
lessness which for fifty years had permitted a 
stream of visitors, some of them eyewitnesses of the 
tragedy, and many of them intimately acquainted 
with every detail and incident of the siege, to pass 
by, without detecting or correcting the error. 

^ Recollections of my Life, London, 1900. An earlier letter from 
Dr. Fayrer to Colonel Wilson, dated December 23, 1864, giving the 
particulars of Sir H. Lawrence's last hours when they were still fresh 
in the Doctor's memory, is printed in the Life of Sir H. Lawrence, by 
Sir H. Edwardes and H. Merivale, vol. ii. 373-7, London, 1872. 



II 

The Billiard Table of Napoleon 

MY second experience was at St. Helena in 
1908. During a compulsory stay of a fort- 
night at Grand Canary and the subsequent long 
sea voyage to St. Helena, I had made a careful 
study of every available work about the Emperor's 
residence in that island (having indeed provided 
myself with a miniature library for the purpose), 
and when I arrived at Longwood, the scene of his 
five years' exile and ultimate death, I was as 
familiar with the identity and history of every room 
in the building, as though I had lived in it myself. 
My knowledge was soon put to an unexpected 
test. As I entered the house I found the French 
Consul, who, as representative of the French Gov- 
ernment, was living at New Longwood (the prop- 
erty having been handed over by the British Gov- 
ernment to Napoleon III. in 1858), about to con- 
duct a party of French visitors round the building. 
In the entrance room, upon the walls of which 
hung a board inscribed " Salle d'Attente," he was 
expatiating upon the uses to which this apartment 
had been put in the time of the Emperor. " This," 
he said, "was the reception room where His 
Majesty received his guests." " Excuse me," said 
I, "this was, at any rate in the first few years 

194 




Liyo 



" LEST WE FORGET " 197 

of the Emperor's residence, the biUiard room: it 
was always known and described as such; in it 
stood the bilhard table on which he used to knock 
about the balls either with a mace or with his hands, 
but which, after he became tired of the game, he 
had removed." The Consul had never heard of 
the table or of the Emperor's amusement upon it; 
but observing that I seemed to have a greater ac- 
quaintance with the contents of the house than 
himself, he very courteously asked me to take the 
company round, which I proceeded to do, explain- 
ing with sufficient fulness the purpose to which 
each apartment had been put, and the furniture 
which it had contained. Thus I acted as guide in 
a house which I had never previously seen. The 
Consul, with much good humour, offered to vacate 
his post permanently in my favour. 

The billiard room of Napoleon, which was orig- 
inally built on to the house by Admiral Sir George 
Cockburn in 1815, when he reconstructed Long- 
wood for the accommodation of the Emperor, is 
the largest room in the building, being 26 feet 
6 inches long, 17 feet 6 inches broad, and 12 feet 
4 inches high — and having as many as five win- 
dows. It is built of wood, and the inner walls 
are painted a dark green, through which in some 
cases could be seen the names that had been cut 
by earlier visitors. Here a billiard table had been 
placed by Sir Hudson Lowe in July 1816 for the 
delectation of the illustrious inmate; and here in 
the early days he used to play with his staff, and 
to knock the balls about with the young lady from 



198 TALES OF TRAVEL 

the Briars (daughter of the English purveyor of 
Longwood), Miss Ehzabeth Balcombe, afterwards 
Mrs. Abell, whom the Emperor used to call Mile. 
Betsee and the French writers to describe as Miss 
Betzi. In the later editions of her vivacious work,^ 
which were ampler than the first/ Mrs. Abell thus 
recalled the experiences of her youth: 

Billiards was a game much played by Napoleon and 
his suite. I had the honour of being instructed in its 
mysteries by him ; but when tired of my lesson, my amuse- 
ment consisted in aiming the balls at his fingers, and I 
was never more pleased than when I succeeded in making 
him cry out. 

And again: 

I caught sight of the Emperor in his favourite billiard 
room and, not being able to insist on having a game 
with him, I bounded off, leaving my father in dismay 
at the consequences likely to ensue. Instead of my an- 
ticipated game, I was requested to read a book by Dr. 
Warden, Surgeon of the Northvmberlcmd, that had just 
come out. 

Later on, when Napoleon used this room for 
working, he would spread his maps and plans upon 
the billiard table. Finally he asked to have it re- 
moved altogether; and from that date to the time 
of my visit it had disappeared from view, no book 
about the furniture and equipment of the exile 

1 Recollections of the Emperor Napoleon, by Mrs. Abell, London 
1873, pp. 176-7. 
^Ihid. 




INTERIOR OF NAPOLEON'S BILLIARD ROOM 



[199 



"LEST WE FORGET" 201 

(of which there are many) having succeeded in 
tracing it. 

Later on I went to lunch with the Governor 
at Plantation House, so famous as the residence 
of Sir Hudson Lowe. It is a very pleasant and 
solidly built structure of the English middle-sized 
country-house type, erected in the early nineteenth 
century, and containing some good-sized rooms. I 
asked to see any furniture that might have belonged 
to Napoleon, and learned that the only pieces were 
a big English-made mahogany book-case from Old 
Longwood, a mirror, and a third piece from New 
Longwood, which the Emperor had of course 
neither ever seen nor used. 

In an unused room, however, at the back of the 
house, my eye fell upon an English billiard table 
of a rather remarkable type. It had six legs in- 
stead of eight, and its dimensions were 11 feet 4 
inches by 6 feet 1 inch, and there was an inlaid 
pattern of ivory and some coloured wood round the 
edge. I asked if there was any history attached 
to it and was informed that there was none. 

" That," I said at once, " must be the billiard 
table of Napoleon. How can it be any other? 
Would the British Government ever have provided 
so ornamental a table for one of its own servants? 
When Napoleon turned out the table from the en- 
trance room at Longwood what became of it? 
Manifestly it reverted to the possession of the Gov- 
ernment. What then would Sir Hudson Lowe do 
with it? The obvious course was to move it to 
his own house, where it has remained ever since, 



202 TALES OF TRAVEL 

being too big and too heavy to part with and too 
interesting to sell." 

This chain of reasoning seemed to have a good 
deal to be said in its favour, until my attention 
was called to the disconcerting fact that there was 
a very fresh-looking ivory tablet on the side of the 
table, containing the well-known name of " Thurs- 
ton & Co., London." Refusing to be convinced, 
I suggested that an explanation should be sought 
from that firm of their connection with what I still 
persisted in regarding as this historic piece of fur- 
niture. 

A few months later my humble essay in induc- 
tive logic was justified; for I heard from the Gov- 
ernor that in 1898 the table had been thoroughly 
repaired, when Messrs. Thurston had supplied new 
cushions and pockets and had affixed their ivory 
mark. Further inquiry ehcited that the table was 
no other than Napoleon's, an old inhabitant of the 
island, still living, having been told so by Mr. 
Stephen Pritchard, who was a young man in St. 
Helena during Napoleon's exile. The tradition, 
however, seems to have died out at a comparatively 
early date, as the table fell into a state of disrepair. 
Indeed, one Governor was proved to have used it 
at first as a carpenter's bench, and later as a screen 
across a door leading into the back-yard! 

On a closer examination the bed of the table 
was found to be a marvellous piece of joinery, con- 
sisting of small pieces of inch-thick oak dove-tailed 
together like a parquet floor (I suppose that in 
those days slate was either difficult to procure or 




[203 



" LEST WE FORGET " 205 

was unknown). The marking board (by Ferny- 
hough of 36 Silver Street, Gordon Square, Lon- 
don) still hangs in the room and is certainly the 
original board belonging to the table, the scoring 
only showing up to 21, which was the old game 
when people played with the mace or butt. 

Such was one of the minor discoveries which my 
visit to St. Helena enabled me to make — perhaps 
I may tell elsewhere about the others. But I still 
remain lost in wonder at the nepenthe which for 
three-quarters of a century had drugged the succes- 
sive occupants of Plantation House and their in- 
numerable visitors into complete oblivion of so in- 
teresting a prize. 



Seven 
THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 



Seven 
THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 

Ostenditque humeros latos, alternaque iactat 
Bracchia protendens, et verberat ictibus auras. 

Virgil, Aeneid, v. 376. 

AMONG the most fair and fanciful of cities is 
L Kioto, the ancient seat of the Empire and 
capital of Japan. For a thousand years it was 
the cage whose gilded bars immured the unseen 
but sacred person of the Mikado. Within the 
bhnd walls of the palace-enclosure the royal 
faineant dawdled away a linnet-like existence. 
Outside, the bulk of his people torpidly acquiesced 
in the rule, however fallible, of a son of the gods. 
Under the guise of an imperial theocracy, Japan 
was in reality a playground for the mihtary ad- 
venturer, and Kioto the focus of court intrigue. 
A heavy curtain of mystery, the joint weaving of 
the palace and the priesthood, enveloped the sacred 
pile, and hermetically concealed it from alien eyes. 
It was only in the latter part of the last decade 
that the folds were torn asunder, and that Kioto 
became accessible to foreigners. The Mikado and 
his court were moved to Tokio; the castle was dis- 
mantled; the temple doors were thrown open, and 
the traveller was at liberty to ransack shrines and 
secret places and sanctuaries with inquisitive im- 
punity. 



210 TALES OF TRAVEL 

The town is exquisitely situated in a cup between 
mountain ranges, quaintly outlined, and clothed 
with an astonishing wealth of trees. From the 
eastern range, where the visitor is probably lodged, 
he will get a wonderful outlook, both at sunrise 
and at nightfall. In the early dawn the entire 
city is drowned in a sea of white vapour, from 
which only the huge hooded roofs of the temples 
emerge, black and solemn, like the inverted hulls 
of gigantic ships. Suddenly, across the mist booms 
the sonorous stroke of some vast temple-bell, and 
rolls away in melancholy vibrations. At night the 
dusky mass of houses, stretching for miles, twinkles 
with the light of a thousand lanterns that glimmer 
from the lintels and dance along the streets. A 
swarm of fire-flies would seem to be flitting in the 
aisles of some dim and sombre forest, from whose 
recesses float upwards the indescribable hum of 
congregated humanity, street cries and laughter, 
the sound of voices, and the tinkling of gui- 
tars. 

At festival time, and when the matsuris, or re- 
ligious holidays, are celebrated, Kioto is especially 
worthy of a visit. The whole town turns out 
merry-making; the temple precincts are blocked 
from morn till night by gaily-dressed crowds ; the 
tea-houses overflow with customers; the singing 
girls extract rich harvest; and copper pieces rain 
into the tills of itinerant purveyors of entertain- 
ment and theatrical shows. One street in partic- 
ular is ablaze with a succession of gaudily-deco- 
rated booths, containing acrobats, jugglers, story- 



THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 211 

tellers, peep-shows, pantomimes, and plays. These 
are crowded from daybreak to sunset, and a forest 
of clogs and sandals, suspended on the outer wall, 
testifies to the thronged condition of the pit within. 
In the dried-up bed of the river which intersects 
the town, and which at different periods presents 
the opposite appearance of a gutter and a torrent, 
will probably be erected a gigantic booth, sur- 
rounded with gaudy bannerets flying from lofty 
poles. A stream of passengers pouring into the 
entrance shows that some exhibition of interest 
and popularity is being enacted within. It was in 
the wake of such a crowd, and on such an occasion, 
that, at Kioto, I first made acquaintance with the 
palaestra of Japan. 

We do not require the authority of the bas-reliefs 
of Thebes and Nineveh, or even of the 32nd chap- 
ter of Genesis, to learn that wrestling must have 
been one of the earliest methods of conflict in vogue 
among ancient peoples. The light of nature must 
have very soon suggested this mode of encounter 
between human beings. Weapons may not always 
have been forthcoming. A duel of blows, i,e,, a 
boxing match, would involve the victory of the 
more practised. Whenever two combatants were 
engaged in a personal struggle, it would be the 
spontaneous instinct of the one who was placed 
at a disadvantage, either of implements or of skill, 
to close with his adversary, and submit to the prac- 
tical test of bodily agility or strength. In this way 
would he be most hkely to equalise the handicap 
of fists, or club, or sword. But here, again, there 



212 TALES OF TRAVEL 

would be an inequality of conditions in favour of 
the stronger muscles and more seasoned strength, 
to redress which the study and science of wrestling 
would come into being. Hence it is not surprising 
to find that, among the peoples of whose remote 
history records are preserved, wrestling seems to 
have been early reduced to a system and practised 
as an art. 

We are perhaps best acquainted with the types 
of wrestling in use among the ancient Greeks, 
and among our own countrymen in the extreme 
north and west of England; familiar to us, in 
the one case, from the illustrations on vases and 
sculptures, in the other from the yearly exhibi- 
tions of the craft that are given in London. 
African travellers have also written curious ac- 
counts of the art as practised among negro tribes. 
To all these systems Japanese wrestHng offers 
certain points of resemblance, but to none more 
closely (though with notable points of diver- 
gence) than to the ancient Homeric fashion, as 
described in the famous contest between Ajax 
and Ulysses in the twenty-third book of the Iliad. 
The early manner of Greek wrestling was as 
widely distinct from the later, from the trial of 
skill described by Plutarch as rexytHcSrarov ual 
Ttavovpydrarov rcov dSXr^pidtGov ^ as was a cross- 
bow from a Martini-Henry rifle; and among the 
many evidences of primitive habit and ancient 
date supplied by the Homeric poems, the story 
of the wrestling match might be quoted as a not 

1 Plutarch, Symposium, ii. 4. 



THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 213 

insignificant item. The art was manifestly as yet 
in its infancy; there was an ingenuous laxity of 
rule; the performance was a rough-and-tumble 
one at the best; and if Ajax and Ulysses had 
depended for fame on their feats in the palaestra^ 
the reputation of neither would have long sur- 
vived. In Japan, a country combining a feverish 
proficiency in many of the habits of advanced 
civihsation with uncompromising relics of feudal 
crystalUsation, we observe a similar innocence of 
science, and adhesion to archaic tradition, in the 
ways of the wrestUng ring. 

On the day that I speak of, at Kioto, the con- 
test annoimced was between the combined repre- 
sentatives of that city and the neighbouring town 
of Osaka, and the champions of the modern 
capital, Tokio. The latter, in spite of the double 
recruiting ground of their adversaries, achieved 
an easy victory — a result which was received with 
extreme despondency by the local partisans, but 
was fortunately unattended by the scenes of vio- 
lence that occurred on a famous occasion of a very 
similar character in our own history, when, on 
Lammas Day, 1223, the wrestlers of London 
having paid a visit to those of Westminster, and 
gained a victory at their expense, the bailiff of 
Westminster and his myrmidons, whose patriotism 
was incensed at the local discomfiture, picked a 
quarrel with the triumphant Londoners, and drove 
them back with slaughter into the precincts of the 
city. No such savage reprisals followed the col- 
lapse of the heroes of Kioto and Osaka on this 



214 TALES OF TRAVEL 

occasion. Only a reproachful silence overhung 
the piqued and disgusted crowd. 

I must here explain that I am not now writing 
about Jiu-JitsUj the more familiar form of Japa- 
nese exercise or wrestling, which is taught as the 
art of self-defence, but about Sumo, the ancient, 
traditional, popular, semi-scientific, semi-religious 
wrestling of Japan; Sumo with its professional 
schools in that country, its forty-eight chief de- 
vices (each with eight variations), its guild of 
carefully-trained, intensively fed, obese prac- 
titioners, its ritual, half-serious and half -comic, its 
still unshaken hold, corresponding to the vogue 
of football in England, upon the populace in 
Japan. Twelve years ago, long after my Kioto 
experiences, a troupe of forty of the more emi- 
nent professors of this art came to England and 
gave a series of performances at the Japan- 
British Exhibition at Shepherd's Bush. I saw 
them there as I had seen their compatriots twenty 
years earlier in Japan: and the existence and 
methods of this school struck me on both occa- 
sions as one of the most curious survivals in that 
country, where the traditional and the up-to-date 
are so strangely interwoven. 

In 1863 Sir Rutherford Alcock wrote: 

Wrestling is to the Japanese what the ring is to us 
and something specially national. Every prince has a 
whole group of wrestlers, and their pride is to have the 
biggest, heaviest, and fattest ; so that they generally look 
as bloated, overfed, and disgusting as prize oxen for the 
butcher at Christmas. I am at a loss to understand how 




JAPANESE WRESTLERS 



[215 



THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 217 

such men of flesh and fat can put on any great strength 
— they grapple very fiercely but seldom seem to throw 
each other. 



Since those days Japanese wrestling has expe- 
rienced much the same transition as overtook its 
counterpart, once practised by kings and nobles 
in England (Henry VIII. was quite a good 
wrestler, and a century and a half later Mon- 
mouth courted popularity by occasionally indulg- 
ing in a bout in rustic sports) when in the grow- 
ing disrepute of feudalism, it passed from the 
mansions of the great to the village green and the 
fairs and festivals of the people. Similarly in 
Japan, when the old order was broken up by the 
revolution, and the castles, retinues, and princely 
maintenance of the nobility became a thing of the 
past, wrestling lost its hold upon the titled classes 
and became the sport of the crowd. But even so, 
it retains a quasi-hieratic prestige, because of its 
connection with the celebrated Ekoin Temple at 
Tokio, the strict etiquette and observances of the 
guild, and the popularity attaching to its prin- 
cipal practitioners, who are regarded in Japan 
with almost as much reverence as a great bull 
fighter at Seville or Madrid. 

To an outsider, unversed in the esoteric rules 
of the art, the performance is apt to appear more 
comic than serious — and I found the greatest dif- 
ficulty in believing, either in Japan or London, 
that the scene which I witnessed had a scientific 
or a symbolic importance. But I will endeavour 



218 TALES OF TRAVEL 

to be fair by giving the latter wherever I can. 

The scene of action at Kioto was the booth in 
the dried-up river bed to which I referred. It 
was built and roofed with wattled bamboos, be- 
tween whose interstices the air entered and made 
a pleasing temperature. The interior accommo- 
dated several hundred persons, mainly squatted 
on the ground, though a small, raised platform, 
divided into compartments, ran round the wall, 
for the accoromodation of wealthier or more 
luxurious patrons. Every eye was directed at a 
raised structure in the centre, rectangular in 
shape, and about 18 feet square, constructed of 
bags of sand, packed one upon the other to a 
height of about 3 feet above the floor. At the 
four corners of this parallelogram were tall poles 
reaching to the roof, with gaudily-coloured flags, 
inscribed with native characters, depending be- 
tween them at the top. This dais is said to have 
been a four-columned temple in its origin and still 
to retain a symbolic significance. In its centre a 
circle, about 12 feet in diameter, was marked out 
by a plaited belt of straw, worked into the soil, 
and was strewn with smooth yellow sand. This 
was the arena in which the combatants were about 
to engage, and out of which one of the two must 
hurl or thrust or throw his adversary before he 
could claim the victory. 

A third person was also admitted on to the 
raised artificial platform. This was the umpire, a 
grotesque sworded figure, clad in a reproduction 



THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 219 

of the old court costume of Japan, with project- 
ing skirts, and a stiff excrescence standing out like 
wings on either side of his back, and flapping as 
he moved. Carrying in his hand, as an emblem 
of his office, a species of lacquered fan, which at 
critical moments he fluttered furiously, he took 
his stand just outside the magic circle, recited to 
the audience in a prolonged shriek the names of 
the combatants, placed them in position, and then 
went off into an unintelligible gabble of sound, 
growing louder and louder, and quicker and 
quicker, till the moment the wrestlers had closed, 
when his ejaculations culminated in a succession 
of screams, while he danced about the platform 
like a maniac, to get a fair view of the contest, to 
decide the points, and to adjudicate upon fair 
play. 

And now as to the combatants themselves, the 
Milos of Tokio and Osaka, the pets of the na- 
tional palaestra. Though for days I had seen 
their photographs being hawked about the streets, 
I must confess I was staggered when I set eyes 
upon the living originals. As their names were 
called out, from opposite sides there advanced on 
to the arena a pair of huge and burly figures, 
veritable Goliaths of Gath, marvels of flesh what- 
ever they might be of muscle, tall in stature, big 
of girth, and elephantine in proportions — a wholly 
different type of animal from the average Japa- 
nese, who is a squat little fellow, nimble as a 
monkey, and less than 5 feet in height. Some of 
the wrestlers were men of medium height, but the 



220 iTALES OF TRAVEL 

majority were of extravagant size and dimensions, 
and appeared to belong to a distinct species, the 
peculiar attributes of which had been transmitted 
by a careful manipulation of the stock from one 
generation to another. They wore their hair in 
the old Japanese fashion, now rapidly falling into 
desuetude, with a stiffly-greased top-knot brought 
forward and laid horizontally upon the crown. 
Their features were not conspicuous for refine- 
ment, and wore an expression of intolerable 
swagger. Their bodies were plentifully embel- 
lished with small circular patches of sticking- 
plaster, concealing artificial burns — a prescription 
very popular in the Japanese, pharmacopoeia as a 
counter-irritant to any pain or malady that may 
happen to be in existence — or with the cicatrices 
which similar patches had once covered, and rows 
of which extended symmetrically down their 
brawny backs. Like the Homeric wrestlers, they 
were naked save for a Ttepi^oo^a or girdle — in this 
case a broad tasselled belt of dark blue silk, pass- 
ing between the legs and round the loins, and 
fitting so tightly to the figure that the antagonist 
could with difficulty squeeze his fingers in to get 
a grip. 

The rival competitors having stepped on to the 
arena, I naturally anticipated that they would 
soon fall to. Such expectations were based on a 
most mistaken estimate of the elasticity of the 
Japanese code, in which preliminaries, if impor- 
tance be measured by time, transcend at least ten- 
fold the trial of strength itself. These prelimi- 




JAPANESE WRESTLERS 



[221 



THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 223 

naries may be divided into two parts: self-adver- 
tisement on the part of each individual champion, 
and co-operate bravado by the pair before the real 
bout begins. Either wrestler first advances with 
great solemnity to the edge of the platform, and 
faces the crowd. Lifting his right leg high in the 
air, and extending it as far as possible from the 
body, he brings it down on the ground with a vig- 
orous stamp, at the same time that he also brings 
down his right hand with a resounding smack 
upon his right thigh. Then up goes the left leg, 
and along with it the left hand, and down come 
both with a thud at a similar angle on the left side ; 
which done, and having strained and tested his 
sinews by this remarkable manoeuvre, the wrestler 
straightens himself and gazes proudly around at 
the gaping audience. Then he lounges to a corner 
of the platform, sips a mouthful of water from 
a small wooden pail, and squirts it through his lips 
over his arms and chest and legs. Next, a paper 
napkin is handed to him by an attendant, with 
which he carefully wipes his face and body. 
Finally, from a little wooden box affixed to the 
corner-pole, he takes a pinch of salt between his 
fingers, and tosses it into the air for luck. This 
act, I was told, had also a moral significance, as 
indicating a complete absence of ill-will between 
the combatants, while the pundits further ascribe 
to it some unexplained sacrificial value. These 
precautions satisfactorily completed, the champion 
probably goes through the stretching and stamp- 
ing performance once again, until at last he is 



224 TALES OF TRAVEE 

ready to play his part in the serio-comedy that 
then ensues. 

Both athletes now take up their positions on 
opposite sides of the ring, and, squatting down 
upon their haunches, vis-a-vis, stretch out their 
arms and gently rub together the palms of their 
hands, which they then open outwards with a ges- 
ture of magnificent civility. Having satisfied 
this formality, which appears to correspond to the 
handshake of two English pugilists, they retire 
once more to their respective corners and repeat 
the performance with water, paper napkin, and 
salt. Some seven or eight minutes must have been 
consumed in these formalities, and patience is 
well-nigh exhausted, when at length they proceed 
into the middle of the ring, and again squat down 
like two monstrous baboons, exactly opposite each 
other, and with their foreheads all but touching. 

The judge now plants himself on one side, 
brandishes his fan, and commences the series of 
mystic ejaculations before alluded to. While his 
jabber waxes fiercer and fiercer, they are seen to 
rise slightly from the crouching attitude, and to 
face each other with alert eyes and outstretched 
arms, ready to grip or to rush in. But not yet is 
the visitor sure of his money's worth; for even at 
this advanced juncture one or other of the antago- 
nists will casually loaf out of the ring, stroll back 
to his corner, and resume the water and salt mas- 
querade — a gratification for which he finds all the 
readier excuse if, as frequently happens, one of 
the two parties has seized an unfair advantage in 



THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 225 

grappling, and the umpire has called " False 
start.'* A similar plea, too, may justify the inter- 
polation of a fresh scene in the comedy, such as 
the rubbing of a little sand under the armpits, or 
a seizing of the corner-pole with both hands, and 
straining against it with full strength. When I 
asked any of my neighbours what they thought of 
this by-play, they grinned and said, " It is Japa- 
nese fashion " ; with which simple effort of ratioc- 
ination their minds appeared to be quite content. 

At length, however — after all these struttings 
and stridings, these rinsings and rubbings, and 
feints and fiascoes — our Daniel Lamberts are 
once more in the ring. What happens when they 
are at length engaged? 

Now, wrestling may be described as consisting 
of three varieties: that in which the object is to 
defeat the adversary by any means whatever, 
without much consideration for fair or foul; that 
which, while enjoying a generous latitude, is yet 
subjected to certain recognised prohibitions- and 
disquahfications ; and that, every phase and move 
of which is regulated, partly by written laws, 
partly by unwritten etiquette. Of the last named, 
the system in vogue in Cumberland and West- 
morland — which is the most scientific in existence 
— is the best illustration; the Devon and Cornish 
system is a fair type of the second; while of the 
first or most primitive we find samples in times 
and countries as remote as among the Greeks of 
Homer, in certain parts of Lancashire at the 
present day, and in the palaestra of Japan. 



226 TALES OF TRAVEL 

The object of the Japanese wrestler is to force 
his opponent to touch the ground with any part 
of his body other than his feet, or to eject him 
altogether from the magic circle, designated by 
the margin of plaited straw. It does not seem to 
matter much how he does this, whether by dint of 
superior weight, or strength, or agility, or by 
means of pushing, or tugging, or lifting, or throw- 
ing. He may hit his antagonist with his fist or 
even seize him by the hair. Sometimes the strug- 
gle is the work of a few seconds; sometimes it is 
prolonged for minutes. As a rule, the men seem 
most averse to grappling; or if by chance they 
have succeeded in closing, instead of aiming at a 
firm and fair grip, they will encircle each other's 
shoulders or body with one hand, while with the 
other they make frantic efforts to grab hold of the 
tight waistband of the adversary, in order to 
secure a more reliable purchase. Thus their 
energy is consumed in the double effort to wriggle 
out of reach themselves, and yet to catch hold of 
their antagonist. Sometimes the more powerful 
man, hke Ajax, in the 23rd Book of the Iliad, will 
lift his opponent clean off the ground. Some- 
times, too, the latter, like Ulysses, will reverse the 
advantage by the exercise of cunning. Some- 
times, hke the two Homeric heroes, they sprawl 
side by side. Occasionally the contest degenerates 
into a butting and thrusting match, as though 
between a pair of gigantic rams. But very rarely 
is any real danger incurred, or damage done, and 
a spectator might attend the Japanese ring for a 



THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 227 

lifetime and never witness such a scene as is 
described in the Lady of the Lake, where Scott 
demonstrates the prowess of Lord James Douglas 
in the wrestling match by thus describing the con- 
dition of his vanquished opponents: 

For life is Hugh of Larbert lame, 
Scarce better John of Alloa's fame, 
Whom senseless home his comrades bare.: 

The distinguishing feature of the Japanese con- 
test seemed to be that nothing was unfair; any 
movement was permissible; no part of the body 
was forbidden. One result of this is very much 
to shorten the struggle. As a rule, it was over 
in a very few moments, or at most in a few min- 
utes — a ridiculous contrast to the exorbitant time 
consumed in preliminaries. One of the two com- 
batants was thrust or pitched or rolled or tumbled 
out of the ring. He picked himself up and retired 
on the one side; the victor stepped down on the 
other; the audience applauded and another pair 
came on. 

The performance at Kioto, which, after a repe- 
tition of much the same incidents scores of times 
in succession, became somewhat monotonous, was 
relieved by two episodes of a more exaggerated, 
though unconscious, absurdity than anything by 
which they had been preceded. In an interval 
between two stages of the competition there ad- 
vanced on to the platform, one after the other, 
two prodigiously fat boys. I say boys, though, 



228 TALES OF TRAVEL 

had I not been told that their ages were only six- 
teen and seventeen, I should never have guessed 
that these mountains of flesh, with cheeks like 
footballs, bellies like hogsheads, and legs like an 
elephant's, were anything but mature and overfed 
men. They wore the same scanty costume as the 
wrestlers, with the addition of a long and gor- 
geously embroidered satin apron, which depended 
from below their paunches to the ground. One of 
the pair, I was told, was the son of a distinguished 
wrestler; and if he might be taken to represent a 
smaller edition of his parent, he certainly spoke 
volumes for the probable proportions of the sire. 
I expected that these two youthful prodigies 
would at least give some exhibition of agility or 
brute strength. But not a bit. They were far too 
tender to wrestle, and were merely intended for 
parade. Each in turn went through the solemn 
dumb show before described. They extended and 
brought down with a stamp their puffy legs; they 
smacked their hands upon their corpulent thighs; 
they spread out their clumsy arms and protruded 
their rotund paunches; they gazed around with an 
air of ineffable complacency; and then they 
strutted off the ring with as much composure as 
they had marched on. 

The other episode was a wrestling match be- 
tween the grown-up counterparts of these Gar- 
gantuan boys; in other words, between two mon- 
sters whose appearance suggested that of fattened 
bulls at a Christmas show. They were clearly the 
idols of the ring, and were received with immense 



THE PALAESTRA OF JAPAN 229 

plaudits. Great flaps of superfluous fat hung 
about the body of the larger, and his stomach 
stood out like an inflated balloon. His rival was 
scarcely his inferior in size or ugliness. No part 
of the formula was omitted by these Titans. They 
raised and planted their unwieldy legs; they 
spanked their massive thighs; they squatted and 
drank water, and sprinkled salt, and rubbed their 
shining skins with the paper napkins. Finally, 
like two hippopotami, they collided. There was 
a sort of convulsive thrusting and heaving; a 
quaking and yielding of vast surfaces of flesh; a 
sound of crumbling and collapse; and then, all in 
a moment, the fatter of the two fat men, whose 
science was not on a par with his suet, rolled off 
the platform like a beer-barrel, and tumbled down 
with a crash into the crowd. 

In the second bout he was bent upon revenge. 
His tactics were simple but efficacious. When his 
opponent rushed in to grapple, he stood still like 
a mountain, and the smaller man, crushed by sheer 
avoirdupois, rebounded off him, and subsided in a 
heap upon the floor. 

I afterwards inquired how it was that this 
strange and abnormal type of manhood was pro- 
duced, and I learned that it was by the practice 
of eugenics in eoccelsis. The wrestlers are selected 
in boyhood from the progeny of parents of un- 
usual size: they are dieted and treated from the 
earliest years; as they grow up and enter the ring 
they are attended by a special bodyguard of mas- 
seurs, trainers, barbers, clothiers and cooks; they 



230 TALES OF TRAVEL 

are encouraged to consume an incredible amount 
of strength-producing food; and they constitute 
a separate guild, graded, numbered, and regis- 
tered according to their capacity. How a selected 
body of Japanese champions would fare against 
our North Country or West Coimtry wrestlers I 
cannot conjecture. For sheer weight no English- 
man could compete with these fleshy prodigies. 
But I expect that he would give them a good deal 
of active exercise to which they are unaccustomed: 
and I should be prepared to wager a reasonable 
sum as to which would first find himself " on the 
mat." 



Eight 
PAGES FROM A DIARY 



L 



Eight 

PAGES FROM A DIARY 

I 

The Dancing Girl of E^eneh 

Take her up tenderly. 

Lift her with care; 
Fashioned so slenderly, 

Young and so fair. 
T. Hood, " The Bridge of Sighs." 

THE dance was over. We had looked on at 
the contortions and wrigghngs, the undula- 
tions and oscillations of the bodies of the girls as 
they performed on the deck of the boat. So vio- 
lent had been their movements that the coins 
which hung on their gauzy dresses rattled and 
rang. The usual accompaniment had been fur- 
nished by the castanets of the dancers, the two- 
stringed cocoa-nut fiddle of the seated musicians, 
and the thrumming of the darahoohdh, or native 
drum. One of the girls, more agile than her com- 
panions, had lain down on the carpet and rolled 
over and over with a champagne bottle on her 
head containing a lighted candle stuck in its neck. 
The company, departing for their native village 
of Keneh, famed for its school of dancers, had to 
cross a narrow plank between the steamer and the 
steep bank of the Nile. Suddenly a cry was raised 

233 



234 TALES OF TRAVEL 

that one of them, either jostled as she stepped 
ashore, or slipping on the plank, had fallen over- 
board. Looking over the side of the boat and 
listening to the confused noise in the bows, I saw 
something black float by on the surface of the 
water a few feet away. Little as I guessed at 
the moment, this was the head and hair of the 
drowning girl, who had gone without a struggle 
or a sound to her doom. 

Quickly lowering a boat, we pulled down stream 
and lifted out the body 150 yards further down. 

On the muddy bank, lit only by the flicker of 
a solitary lantern, and the remote gUtter of the 
stars, lay the poor child's body, the head thrown 
back, the brown bosom bare, the bedraggled finery 
clinging round the limbs that half an hour before 
had tripped and twisted and turned. For three- 
quarters of an hour we endeavoured in vain to 
restore respiration amid the piercing cries of the 
other members of the troupe. It was of no use. 
One more unfortunate had gone to her death, and 
the Nile — a, very fatal current into which to fall — 
had claimed another victim. I collected <£10 on 
board and sent it to the Mudir of Keneh for dis- 
tribution to the girl's relatives. But so handsome 
was the price, or so tempting the bribe, that when 
we came down stream again a deputation from 
Keneh awaited us to implore the favour of another 
performance. 



II 

The Aeab Runaway at Nejef 

Asshur shall not save us ; we will not ride upon horses. 

Hosea xiv. 3. 

THE holy shrine of Nejef, one of the two most 
sacred places of the Shiah faith, situated in 
the Arabian desert, was my destination. There I 
was to be the guest of a learned Mujtahed^ or 
Mussulman Doctor of the Law, bearing the ap- 
propriate and high-sounding title of the Bahru' 
rUlum, or Sea of Science; and he had commis- 
sioned his brother, a demure and courtly Seyid, to 
greet me and bring me to the city. It was very 
cold in the early morning. In the distance on the 
left the tower of Birs Nimrud peered above a blue 
sea of vapour which enveloped the lower part of 
the great tepe or mound of burnt bricks from 
which it springs. Immense flocks of wild geese 
rose with loud clamour from the surrounding 
marshes and flew in a perfect cuneiform forma- 
tion, behind their squadron leader, at a great 
height in the sky. 

Not a sign of human life or habitation broke 
the stark monotony of the desert. But as the sun 
climbed above the horizon, a spark of fire, dwin- 
dling and then growing again, scintillated on the 

235 



236 TALES OF TRAVEL 

sky-line, where the rays of the mounting orb 
splintered on the golden dome of Nejef. 

The Seyid and I were riding side by side, and 
I was receiving instruction from him in the his- 
tory and mysteries of the sacred places, when 
there approached us a gaily caparisoned calva- 
cade, in the midst of which curvetted and cara- 
coled a magnificent white Arab steed. On his 
back were a velvet saddle-cloth, and a high-peaked 
Arab saddle, studded vrith silver; and the heavy 
shovel-stirrups, hanging loose at his side, jangled 
to and fro as he leaped and pranced. The two 
parties met; and thereupon I learned that this 
splendid animal, the private property of the 
Seyid, and the prize inmate of his stable, had been 
sent out by my host, in order that on his back I 
might make a becoming entry into the sacred city. 

To me, however (I am not ashamed to confess), 
the prospect of exchanging my good horse and 
Enghsh saddle for the doubtful amenities of the 
Arab equipment and the exuberant frolics of this 
impassioned steed, made no appeal; and I felt a 
shrewd suspicion that my entry into the site of 
such holy memories, if honourable, would also be 
rapid. I recalled the unhappy experience of the 
Cardinal Balue in the pages of Quentin Durward, 
and I was resolved to escape a similar fate. With 
extreme civility, therefore, I pressed upon the 
Seyid the consideration that the laws of courtesy 
did not permit me to deprive him of his own horse, 
and that I should regard it as the highest honour 
to ride at his side into the town. I urged him 



PAGES FROM A DIARY 239 

therefore to exchange the animal that he was rid- 
ing for this more showy mount. Although he dis- 
played almost as much reluctance as I had done 
to make the exchange, he presently consented, and 
proceeded to dismount. 

No sooner, however, had he placed one foot in 
the huge shovel-stirrup, hardly had the other leg 
swung in the air over the pointed crupper than, 
like an arrow from the bow, the proud Arab was 
off into the desert. No Derby winner ever cov- 
ered the course at Epsom in more approved style 
or at a more headlong speed. I can see the steed 
and his rider now, the white mane and long tail 
of the horse stretched taut, the brown aba^ or cloak, 
of the Seyid bellying and streaming (like the 
purple coat of the Cardinal) in the wind, his 
snow-white turban swaying over the head of the 
runaway, the thud of the hoofs growing fainter 
and fainter on the hard gravel of the desert, as 
horse and rider disappeared into the void. In 
almost less time than it has taken to write these 
sentences, they were a speck on the horizon, and 
finally vanished altogether from view. Nor, until 
I entered the gates of the city, did the holy man 
reappear, flushed and pouring with perspiration, 
but mounted on another and less fiery steed. 

On the next morning, after seeing the sights of 
the place, we rode out through the high walls of 
the town on our way to the mosque of Kufa, five 
miles distant. The Seyid still did me the honour 
of accompanying me; but this time I observed 
that he was mounted on a fine white female don- 



240 TALES OF TRAVEL 

key, behind which trotted a young foal. When I 
asked him why he did not ride his own beautiful 
horse, he replied that he would mount it a little 
outside the city. Later on he said that the ex- 
change would be effected at Kufa. But Kufa 
came and was passed, Kifl came, Birs Nimrud 
came, and before sundown we had reached 
Babylon. But still the secure and patient ass 
bore the form of the prudent Seyid of Nejef, and 
the not less prudent Englishman on his Baghdadi 
horse and his English saddle rode contentedly at 
his side. 



Ill 

The Robber of Khagan 

A territory 
Wherein were bandit earls, and caitiff knights. 
Assassins, and all flyers from the hand 
Of justice, and whatever loathes a law. 
Tennyson, " Geraint and Enid " {Idylls of the King), 

WHEN I came back again into India from 
the Pamirs in October 1894, after leaving 
Chilas, I crossed by the Babusar Pass (13,400 
feet) into the Khagan valley and descended by 
that route at Abbottabad, where I was to stay 
with my friend, that eminent soldier and charm- 
ing man. Sir William Lockhart. Four years later 
he was to be my first Commander-in-Chief in 
India, though his tenure of that high office was 
lamentably brief, being terminated by his death in 
Calcutta in March 1900. 

Lockhart had told me that the Khagan valley, 
which, though inside the borders of British India, 
was left pretty much to itself, had an evil repu- 
tation for its bad characters, who escaped easily 
across the border into the Alsatia of Kohistan. 
He had accordingly insisted on sending out a de- 
tachment of Gurkhas who were to help me over 
the pass, which was likely to be deep in snow, and 
to guard me during my transit through Khagan. 

These sturdy little fellows, though brave as 

241 



242 TALES OF TRAVEL 

lions in warfare, and belonging to a race of 
natural mountaineers, were strangely upset by 
tbe ordeal of crossing the pass in deep snow, and 
had themselves to receive, instead of rendering, 
assistance. One of them turned sick and burst 
out crying, and I had to lift and hold him on to 
a pony. The difficulty of the pass, however, once 
surmounted, we then rode for two days down the 
exquisite valley of Khagan through lovely woods 
of pine and cedar, crossing repeatedly, by canti- 
lever bridges of rude timbers, the rushing Kunhar 
river that foamed and roared below. I was es- 
corted by the head of the friendly family of 
Seyids, who are the principal land owners and 
(under the British Raj) the practical rulers of 
the valley, and by his brothers and cousins. 

The farther we descended the more beautiful 
was the scenery, which became Swiss in its tone 
and beauty. Tall plumy pines clothed the sides 
of the ravine to the water's edge, and even sprang 
in the bed of the stream. This sometimes widened 
into crystal-clear pools, anon roared hilariously 
in rapids and cascades. I rode over ground lit- 
tered with pine-needles and cones. The villages 
or hamlets consisted of log-huts built on the steep 
slope of the hill, so that the back of the house 
sprang straight from the hill-side, or at most was 
raised above it by two horizontal rows of logs, 
while the facade was sometimes two storeys in 
elevation, with verandahs. The side walls were 
built of big logs and stones, but the front, as a 
rule, consisted of upright timbers. Outside the 



PAGES FROM A DIARY 243 

villages were great stacks of grass and other 
herbs. 

Nearing Khagan the timber and scenery ac- 
quired a more English character. Chestnuts and 
sycamores, yellow with the autumn, abounded. 
Many of the trees were pollarded, and bundles of 
dry leaves on sticks were trussed up in the forks 
for winter use. From every village emerged 
numbers of tall, spider-waisted, big-turbaned, 
handsome Seyids, every one apparently a brother 
or a cousin of the chief. Each as he came up 
stretched out his right hand, in the palm of which 
were two rupees, to be politely touched and re- 
turned. The dress of the men was very different 
from that with which I had so long been familiar 
among the dark communities of the Hindu Kush. 
The Khaganis wore a big turban, white, or of a 
dark blue tartan, with long ends hanging down 
behind. An overcoat reached nearly to the knee, 
and was tightly drawn in by a waist-band at the 
waist. Below this were loose puttee or cotton 
knickerbockers; white puttees were bound round 
the legs with black fastenings, and on the feet 
were leather shoes turned up at the point. All 
manner of leather straps and belts were dis- 
tributed about the person. The men's faces were 
very yellow in colour, and the majority wore a 
beard and moustache which was shaven bare over 
the middle of the lip. The beard of my host, 
Ahmed Ali Shah, was stained a brilliant red, and 
his manners were those of a renaissance courtier. 
The hair was worn long, and turned up at the 



2U TALES OF TRAVEL 

ends upon the back of the neck. The entire ap- 
pearance of the Khagan Seyids suggested in fact 
some human vanity and no small taste. 

On the second night we camped on a grassy 
slope just outside the principal village of Khagan. 
My own little Kabul tent was placed on the left 
side of the miniature terrace, and just above it 
was pitched the large tent of the Gurkha escort, 
four of whom were to be on duty by day and the 
remainder by night. 

Tired out by my long day's ride, I ate my 
simple dinner in the httle tent, and after writing 
my diary, went to bed between ten and eleven. 
The bed consisted of a leather roll stretched on 
rings between the two yakdans, or leather trunks, 
which are the most serviceable form of travelling 
baggage in those regions. Slung on mule-back in 
the daytime, they serve both as packing-cases, 
seat, and bedstead in the tent at night. I had 
placed the bed against the left-hand canvas of the 
tent, the open space in the centre and on the right 
being occupied with my saddle and holsters and 
the whole of my kit, lying in a litter on the floor. 
The Gurkha guards were presumably posted out- 
side the tent. 

Soon after midnight I woke, not with a start, 
but with the consciousness of which I had often 
read, though I had never before experienced it, 
that I was not alone in the tent. The darkness 
was black as pitch and thick as velvet; and though 
I listened intently without moving a muscle, I 
heard no sound. Half unconsciously I put out 



PAGES FROM A DIARY 245 

my left hand and dropped it between the bed and 
the canvas wall of the tent which the bed all but 
touched. It fell plumb, as though my fingers had 
alighted upon a billiard ball, on the shaven head 
of a man. I could feel the prickle of the sprout- 
ing hair against my palm. But in the same mo- 
ment the object slid out of my grasp and a rustle 
indicated the stealthy withdrawal of the intruder. 
By this time I was wide awake. Springing up, I 
struck a match, seized my revolver, and dashed in 
my pyjamas out of the tent, shouting to the 
Gurkhas as I emerged. Not a man was to be 
seen. I rushed up the short slope to the guard- 
tent and tore aside the flap. The eight guards 
were all lying fast asleep on the ground. 

In a few moments the whole camp was astir, 
the guilty Gurkhas were flying in every direction 
in pursuit of the intruder, and the place resounded 
with shouts and yells. But neither then, nor on 
the next morning, nor at any time afterwards was 
any trace of him found. The polite Seyids were 
visibly disturbed at this reproach upon their hos- 
pitality and the good character of their village. 
But they protested that the evildoer could not 
possibly be a Khagan man; no Khagani could be 
guilty of so outrageous and criminal an act; he 
was a budmash from across the border who had 
fled back incontinently to his own people. 

I do not suppose that the budmash in question 
had come to kill me, unless indeed he was a 
Ghazi who wished to reduce by one the number of 
unbelievers in the world. He was much more 



246 TALES OF TRAVEL 

probably a local thief who expected to find in my 
tent money or some other valuables, or who was 
ready to steal anything upon which he could lay 
his hands. 

But I have always been grateful for the chance 
that led him to crawl under the left rather than 
the right canvas of my tent, and that led me to 
drop my hand upon his unsuspecting cranium at 
the very moment when he was just lifting his 
head to find out where he was. Had he effected 
his entry on the other side of the tent, he might 
either have absconded with some of my belong- 
ings or, had I interrupted him in the act, have 
dealt with me in a manner which would have pre- 
vented this anecdote from ever being written. 



IV 

The Greek Executioner 

With devotion's visage 
And pious action we do sugar o'er 
The devil himself. 

Shakspeare, Hamlet, Act III., So. i. 

FORTY years ago the administration of jus- 
tice in Greece left much to be desired. 
Visiting the mihtary prison of Fort Palamedes 
above the town of Nauplia in 1882, I was shown 
a number of condemned criminals, brigands of the 
worst type, who were exposed to view behind 
bars — a horrible sight — awaiting execution. King 
George, however, who was at that time on the 
throne, had an invincible repugnance to signing 
a death-warrant. Accordingly the condemned 
men were fairly safe as long as His Majesty was 
in the country. But as soon as he departed on 
tour, and the Government was put into commis- 
sion, a death-warrant was at once made out and 
a few of the more desperate ruffians were dis- 
posed of. It may well be imagined that among 
the criminal classes the continental journeys of 
the sovereign were awaited with much apprehen- 
sion, and excited but little enthusiasm. 

Still more anomalous was the case of the public 
executioner. He was himself a criminal, under 
sentence of death, who had only escaped that fate 

247 



248 TALES OF TRAVEL 

by volunteering to inflict it upon others. His 
term of office was ten years, and he was eligible 
for re-appointment if he gave satisfaction. In 
such general detestation, however, was this func- 
tionary held, that he was obliged to Hve specially 
guarded on a little island in the harbour. He 
would have been murdered at once had he shown 
himself without protection on the mainland. 

A difficulty, however, presented itself when the 
executioner, having completed his term of office, 
wished to retire. His hfe was still in danger, not 
from the unexecuted sentence of the law, which 
he had escaped by his own decade of faithful 
service, but from the vengeance of those whose 
friends he had been instrumental in despatching 
to another world. The last incumbent of the 
office had solved the difficulty in a manner that 
did credit to his ingenuity, even if it did not con- 
clusively demonstrate his penitence. He had 
turned monk and sought the security of a devo- 
tional life. 



V 

By the Waters of Babylon 

The sun's rim dips, the stars rush out. 
At one stride comes the dark. 

S. T. Coleridge, " The Ancient Mariner." 

ONCE more I am camped on the banks of 
the Euphrates. The river rolls its dirty 
volume by. It is the late afternoon. There 
occurs that wonderful interlude before sundown 
— a time half of mystery, half of sadness — ^when 
the day passes through its death-throes and pre- 
pares for dissolution. In the tranquil radiance 
the river-side villages are redeemed from the filth 
and squalor of the day, and assume a fleeting 
beauty that has in it something of the divine. A 
bluish vapour rises from the broad river-bosom 
and swathes the banks with filmy kerchief. The 
pitchy hulls of the big one-masted boats, moored 
along the shore, tremble inverted in the glassy 
current. A rosy pink strikes redly on mud wall 
and mouldering rampart, and high above the flat 
house-tops the columnar stems and quivering 
plumes of a hundred palms are pencilled against 
the sky. Bands of saffron fringed with green, and 
of turquoise blending into pink, are stretched like 
scarves round the horizon, except where in the 
west the sinking orb turns half the heaven into a 

249 



250 TALES OF TRAVEL 

forge of fire. In the distance is heard the creak- 
ing of the pulleys as the oxen draw the last skins 
of water from the muddy wells. Nearer, the 
mingled sounds of human and animal life, the 
barking of dogs and braying of donkeys, the shrill 
clamour of children, the raucous ejaculations of 
the Asiatic mule-driver, and the eternal hubbub 
of the bazaar, ring out a strange but not un- 
musical chorus. From the village mosque tower a 
brazen-lunged Seyid, with fingers pressed against 
his ears, intones the evening prayer. And so, as 
the suave pomp of the Eastern sunset wanes, 
river and village and people and the glowing sun 
itself sink slowly to rest; the enchantment seems 
coldly to fade out and expire; an undulating 
vapour curls upward from the river-bed; and 
presently the same grey misty monochrome has 
enveloped all alike with its fleecy mantle. The 
day is dead. 



VI 

The Havildar of Sarhad 

The poet, wandering on 
Over the aerial mountains which pour down 
Indus and Oxus from their icy caves. 
In joy and exultation held his way. 

Shelley, " Alastor." 

IN the course of my visit to the Pamirs in the 
early autumn of 1894 in order to determine the 
true source of the Amu-Daria, or Oxus, 

In her high mountain cradle of Pamere, 

I descended from the lofty passes where the Hindu 
Kush and Mustagh ranges join and are merged, 
into the valley of Wakhan. This narrow valley, 
down which the Oxus flows, had just been assigned 
by the Pamir Boundary Commission to the Amir 
of Afghanistan, as a buffer state between British 
and Russian territories and ambitions, and it was 
believed to be sparsely occupied by Afghan troops. 
I camped for one night at Bozai Gumbaz, the place 
where Sir Francis (then Captain) Younghusband 
had been arrested by Colonel Yonoff in August 
1891 — a bleak and cheerless spot — and from there 
my companion and I made our way down stream, 
over pans or cliff tracks of appalling steepness, 
to a spot where the river, released from its long 

261 



252 TALES OF TRAVEL 

mountain imprisonment, spread itself out in count- 
less fibres over a wide watery plain, closed on 
either hand by magnificent snow peaks. Below 
us lay the terraced fields of Wakhan. Oxen, 
goats, and sheep were being driven in at the 
sunset hour, and thin curls of smoke arose from 
the settled habitations of men. My companion and 
I were a good deal in advance of our caravan, which 
we had left struggling on the mountain tracks, and 
we arrived alone at a group of Wakhi villages in 
the valley bottom, to all of which the Afghans 
apply the collective title of Sarhad. This spot is 
10,400 feet above the sea. It was a place of some- 
what evil reputation for English travellers: for 
there in 1890 Mr. and Mrs. St. G. Littledale, the 
well-known explorers, had been stopped for twelve 
days by the ofiiciousness or discourtesy of the 
Afghan captain from Kila Panja, 50 miles farther 
down the river. 

To guard against any such contretemps, I had 
written in advance to the Amir of Afghanistan, 
whose guest I was going later to be at Kabul, 
asking him to send word to his officials in Wakhan 
of my intended arrival. This he had done, and 
the petty oflScer at Sarhad was well aware of my 
identity. Nevertheless, the opportunity of swag- 
gering a little at the expense of a great power 
before the inhabitants of this remote spot was too 
good to be lost, and, the local officer having pres- 
ently been joined by his superior officer, a havildar 
from the little Afghan fort of Chehilkand, lower 
down the valley, these worthies, who wore a non- 




[253 



1 



PAGES FROM A DIARY 255 

descript combination of uniform and ordinary- 
dress, informed my companion and me that we 
were Russian spies and must consider ourselves 
under arrest until their commanding officer could 
arrive from Kila Panja. In the course of my 
travels I have, on different occasions, been mis- 
taken for a good many things and persons, but it 
was a happy novelty to be suspected of being a 
Russian spy! 

Retaining our equanimity as best we could, we 
watched with anxious eyes the mountain defile from 
which our camp and escort must presently emerge, 
the while we palavered with the intractable and 
insolent Afghans. Presently, as the welcome 
caravan debouched upon the plain, the relative 
strengths of the two parties were reversed; we 
found ourselves in a very decided numerical ma- 
jority, and, promptly turning the tables, I in- 
formed the two Afghans that if they and their 
seedy sepoys took the smallest step to impede our 
progress, they should themselves be placed under 
immediate arrest. This was sufficient; and after 
a warning of my sincere intention to inform the 
Amir at Kabul of the hospitable reception accorded 
at Sarhad to his impending guest, we packed our 
loads and marched away. 

Two months later at Kabul the Amir himself 
raised the matter in my first audience with him, 
having received my letter of complaint and made 
inquiries. The reply of the havildar, however, had 
been of such a character as to excite my reluctant 
admiration. " He was still awaiting," he said, " the 



256 TALES OF TRAVEL 

arrival of the great English Lord sahib, who would 
no doubt presently appear in uniform with an es- 
cort of 1000 men. In the meantime two of the 
Lord sahib's servants {i,e,, my companion and my- 
self) had already passed through with an insignifi- 
cant following. He himself would continue dili- 
gently to await the great Lord." 

I heard later that this estimable intention on 
the part of the polite havildar had been frustrated 
by an imperative summons to Kabul. What hap- 
pened there I do not know, though from my knowl- 
edge of the Amir I should fear the worst. For 
my own part, I could not help feeling a sneaking 
admiration for the ingenuity of my two inhospitable 
friends of Sarhad in Wakhan. 



VII 
In the Bull Ring 

NoTiciAS Taurinas 

La Corrida de Cadiz fue buena. Los toros de Nunez de 
Prado resultaron bravos y de empieje despachando 15 caballos. 
Frascuelo estuevo disgraciado y Angel Pistor bien. La Cor- 
rida de Malaga fue mala. El publico silbo a Lagartijo y 
Cara-Ancha. Los toros de Benjumea saluron muy malos — 
Uno de ellos fu fogueado. 

El Liberal, April 29, 1884. 

I SAW the usual sights of the Spanish bull 
ring. I saw Lagartijo and Mazzantini kill 
eight bulls in eight strokes at the great Easter 
festival at Seville. I witnessed the revolting spec- 
tacle of the half-disembowelled horses forced upon 
the horns of the artificially infuriated animals, the 
agility of the handerilleros, the cruelty of the in- 
flammable darts, the amazing skill, agility, and 
courage of the espada or torero in the final en- 
counter. The entire performance filled me, as it 
has filled so many others, with alternate admira- 
tion and disgust. Far more than the bull-fight 
itself was I interested in the scene on the eve be- 
fore the fight, when the bulls were driven into the 
town at night, thundering along the closed streets 
amid clouds of dust to the waving of lanterns and 
the cries of the horsemen urging them on, until they 
were penned in their stalls in the great amphithe- 

257 



258 TALES OF TRAVEL 

atre, where they were to be shut up foodless till 
their ordeal of the morrow. 

But the feature of the Spanish crowd that struck 
me most was its personal attitude, sometimes of 
frenzied admiration, sometimes of passionate ridi- 
cule and fury, directed at the principal actors, 
whether human or animal, in the drama. If one 
of the fighters showed skill and address, he would 
be frantically applauded; if he missed a series of 
strokes or offended against any of the rules of 
the game, still more if he appeared to be lacking 
in personal courage, he would be as unmercifully 
hissed, and oranges, empty bottles, old shoes and 
hats would be hurled at him from the crowd. Sim- 
ilarly, if the bull put up a good fight, he was loudly 
cheered. If he funked or declined to fight, he was 
overwhelmed with derision and contempt — poor 
brute — as though he had been guilty of some 
culpable misdemeanour. Indeed, not only was he 
personally abused, but his family and ancestry 
were held up to equal execration. 

All this seemed very foreign to British ideas of 
sport. English crowds occasionally indulge in a 
little *' barracking " if a particularly " stone-wall " 
bat defends his wicket without adding to the score, 
but I have never heard a football player hissed 
for missing a goal; still less a racehorse calumni- 
ated for coming in last in a race. 

But the Spanish temperament in its ardour for 
the national sport identifies itself with the triumphs 
or the laches of man and beast alike, and, if it 
applauds their exploits, is equally indifferent to 



PAGES FROM A DIARY 259 

their failure or suffering. I can never forget one 
such scene of which I was a witness in the great 
bull ring of Malaga. 

Just as the espada lunged with the sword, at 
the very instant that he sprang aside, the bull with 
a rapid twist of its lowered head was upon him. 
He was caught and tossed like a feather bolster 
into the air ; he fell ; in a second again he was aloft, 
transfixed on that terrible point. There was a 
vision of glittering silver spangles, violet silk 
breeches, and white stockings, as they were twirled 
round in mid-air, and then a heavy thud as the 
body was dashed again to the ground. 

A cry of momentary horror broke even from 
that callous assembly. Thousands sprang ex- 
citedly from their seats; many dashed down to 
the arena to get a nearer view of what was hap- 
pening; the personal friends of the bull-fighter 
leaped the barricade to offer their services. The 
unhappy man, staggering for a moment to his feet, 
and striving ineffectually to combine with the 
physical courage that never deserted him the 
strength that was fast ebbing away, fell into the 
arms of the surrounding matadors. He had two 
gaping wounds, one in the back of the right thigh, 
the other in the groin — the two places where the 
cruel point had been driven home. 

One of the doors in the barrier was opened; 
the procession carrying the wounded man disap- 
peared down the gangway beyond. The excite- 
ment subsided as quickly as it had arisen; the 
crowd resumed their seats, and the entertainment 



260 TALES OF TRAVEL 

proceeded exactly as though nothing had occurred. 
That evening the victim died. 

Few perhaps who see the sport and applaud 
the skill realise the prodigious risks incurred in 
the final stage. The death roll of famous toreros, 
though perhaps not great in proportion to the 
numbers engaged, is the most eloquent comment. 
Of those whom I saw nearly forty years ago the 
most celebrated happily survived their experience 
of the arena. Mazzantini, who had been both a 
station-master and an operatic singer, ended his 
public career as Civil Governor of Cadiz! La- 
gartijo and Frascuelo became small landed pro- 
prietors, and remained popular heroes on their 
farms. But others, in addition to the Malaga 
victim, whose name I forget, were less fortunate, 
and lost their lives on the field of action. The 
most recent champion of the ring, Joselito, was 
killed at Talavera in 1920. The year 1922 claimed 
the lives of Varelito and Granero. 



VIII 

The Maharaja's Adjuration 

And the driving is like the driving of Jehu, the son of 
Nimshi; for he driveth furiously. 

2 Kings ix. 20. 

IT was a wonderful spectacle. Here Nature 
had spent upon the land her richest bounties; 
the sun failed not by day, the rain fell in due 
season, drought was practically unknown; an 
eternal summer appeared to gild the scene. In 
a fairy setting of jungle and backwater and 
lagoon, prosperous cities had been founded; and 
a race of indigenous princes flattered the pride 
and upheld the traditions of a tranquil and con- 
tented people. 

The morning from the earliest hour — for it was 
very hot — was spent in ceremonial duties. State 
visits had to be paid, formal compliments ex- 
changed, institutions to be inspected or opened, 
speeches to be made — all this under a cloudless 
sky and a tropical sun. Even in their white duck 
uniforms the staff felt and looked hot; even the 
Maharaja, in all his panoply of silks and jewels, 
although inured to the climate, was perceptibly 
warm. The native crowds, however, who lined the 
streets and packed the public places, in their 
scantier attire were visibly happy, while not dis- 

261 



262 TALES OF TRAVEL 

daining the use of sunshades of local manufacture. 
The massed school children did the requisite 
amount of shrill cheering at selected sites. The 
prince's body-guard galloped about on quite in- 
ferior mounts and attempted a display with which 
they were evidently unfamiliar. The state landau 
had been pulled out for the occasion by the 
Maharaja for the use of the Viceroy and his wife; 
but neither the horses nor the native coachman on 
the box appeared to have any clear appreciation 
of their task or any particular aptitude for per- 
forming it. 

The procession was about to start from one 
ceremonial scene to another; " God save the 
King " was being performed in a somewhat pre- 
carious and spasmodic fashion by a native band; 
the crowds began to cheer, the cavalry escort fell 
into place; but the carriage and horses seemed 
reluctant to start, while the native coachman ap- 
peared to be so overcome with his responsibilities 
as to be incapable of anything but futile gesticu- 
lation. 

Then it was that the Maharaja, whose knowl- 
edge of English was limited, but who realised 
that his reputation as a prince and a host was at 
stake, rose in his place and ejaculated in tones of 
thunder two words and two alone: 

"D-r-i-ver! D-r-iver!" 

It was felt by every one that the command was 
adequate to the occasion. The Maharaja sank 
back into his seat exhausted, but with the air of a 
great duty solemnly performed; the native coach- 



PAGES FROM A DIARY 263 

man ceased gesticulating and with recovered con- 
fidence handled the reins; the steeds sprang for- 
ward with an unexpected elan; the procession fell 
into hne; and the next stage in the morning's per- 
formance was securely and triumphantly achieved. 
The two words of the Maharaja, like the " Open 
Sesame " of Ali Baba, had successfully solved the 
problem. 



IX 

The Young Judge 

O wise young judge, how I do honour thee. 
Shakspeare, Merchant of Venice, Act. IV., Sc. i. 

THE death of King Victor Emmanuel in 
January 1878 produced an immense sensa- 
tion throughout Italy, where he was not merely 
regarded as the national hero who had re-estab- 
lished the national unity, and placed Italy once 
more in the front rank of states, but had endeared 
himself to the people by his sporting instincts, his 
indomitable gallantries, and his interest in the life 
of all classes of the population. The title " II lie 
Galantuomo " fitly represented the national con- 
ception both of his character and his service. The 
demonstrations of sorrow were universal and sin- 
cere, and all Italy yearned to testify its sense of 
the irreparable loss which the nation had sus- 
tained. Inasmuch as the whole of the country 
could not participate in the obsequies at Rome, 
where the King had been buried, it was decided 
to hold a great ceremony for Northern Italy at 
Milan, where a service was announced to be held 
in the Duomo, and a requiem mass performed. 
Tens of thousands of persons poured into Milan 
from all parts of the country, and the city was as 
packed as though, instead of conducting a service 

264 



PAGES FROM A DIARY 265 

over a man already interred elsewhere, the body 
of the King himself was to be carried by his 
mourning people to the actual grave. 

I happened to be in Milan with my old and 
trusted friend Oscar Browning; and we consid- 
ered in what way we could, without any special 
credentials, see the spectacle and take part in the 
celebration. We decided in any case to put on 
black evening clothes, top hats, and white ties, as 
likely to be in harmony with the sentiment of the 
hour. Thus attired we sallied out in the morning 
and made our way through the crowded streets to 
the prefecture to see if we could obtain permis- 
sion to enter the cathedral. There was a great 
crowd round the official building, where proces- 
sions of provincial mayors and district judges 
were being organised, and were in some cases 
already starting on their way. Observing that 
some of these gentlemen were garbed in raiment 
almost identical with our own, we insinuated our- 
selves in their midst, and walked with admirable 
composure in their company through the long cov- 
ered gallery or arcade that leads into the Piazza 
before the Duomo. O. B.'s fluent command of 
Italian enabled him to cope easily with the situa- 
tion. But I was a little embarrassed when my 
neighbour in the procession addressed me with the 
remark that I appeared to be an exceptionally 
youthful judge, and wanted to know whence I 
came. I acknowledged the precocity, but re- 
frained from otherwise adding to his information. 

At length we emerged into the great piazza. 



266 TALES OF TRAVEL 

which was filled with an enormous crowd, and, 
crossing this, marched up the main steps of the 
Duomo and entered by the central door. At the 
head of the nave stood a gigantic catafalque on 
which rested the empty coffin, draped in purple 
and black, that represented the absent body of the 
King. Whether the illusion that we were judges 
did or did not continue to prevail, at any rate no 
one obstructed our passage to the foot of the 
catafalque, where the bishops assisting in the 
ceremony took their seats at our feet. From this 
vantage ground we witnessed without interrup- 
tion the entire ceremony. 

It was not free from tragedy. For, after the 
processions had entered and the service had 
already advanced far on its way, the crowd in the 
piazza, who had not been permitted to enter the 
cathedral, burst through the great door that 
closed the northern side aisle and flocked into the 
building. Like a flood they poured up the aisle, 
climbing the monuments, overturning the occu- 
pants of the seats, and crushing and trampling 
each other under foot. A part of the Mass was 
being chanted by a tenor with a divine voice, whose 
name was Tommaso or Tommasino (or some such 
name) ; but loud above his glorious notes rang 
through the marble colonnades the agonising 
shrieks of the tortured men and women. The 
next day we read in the papers that not a few 
persons had been crushed to death in that des- 
perate and almost demoniacal struggle. 



Nine 
HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 



Nine 

HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 

I 

The "Pig and Whistle " at Bunji 

I will fetch you a toothpicker now from the furthest ends 
of Asia. 

Shakspeare^ Much Ado About Nothing, Act 11.^ So. i. 

NOTHING is more remarkable than the char- 
acter and spirit of the young men, British 
subalterns as a rule, who on the outskirts of our 
Indian dominions are upholding the fabric and 
sustaining the prestige of the British Raj. 

In remote mountain fastnesses, amid wild tribes, 
far from civilisation, in a climate sometimes sav- 
agely hot, at others piercingly cold, with no com- 
forts or luxuries, often amid cruel hardships, they 
face their task with unflinching and patriotic 
ardour, dispensing justice among alien popula- 
tions, training and disciplining native forces, and 
setting a model of manly and uncomplaining de- 
votion to duty, which reflects undying credit on 
the British name. 

Scattered as they may be over wide areas, it 
will be rarely that they can meet together to 
enjoy society or to exchange experiences. When 
they do, warm is the hospitality and high are the 
spirits that prevail. On my march from Kashmir 
to the Pamirs, in the autumn of 1894, I came 

269 



270 TALES OF TRAVEL 

across such a place, and I was lucky in joining 
such a gathering at a spot known as Bunji, not 
far from the Indus on the mountain road to 
Gilgit. It is a forlorn and melancholy spot, des- 
titute either of amenities or attraction. Here, 
however, stood a humble single- storied bungalow, 
consisting, as far as I remember, of three small 
rooms, one of which was used as a mess-room, 
where the young officers from time to time fore- 
gathered as they went up and down the road. 
With a somewhat forced jocularity, seeking to 
invest this dingy meeting-place with the simu- 
lacrum of a tavern, its frequenters had christened 
it the " Pig and Whistle." 

On this occasion, hearing of my visit, they had 
collected from far and near. I was accorded the 
sleeping-place of honour in a flea-haunted bed- 
room, where I spent a night of horror. But the 
real entertainment was in the so-called mess-room, 
where was dispensed whatever of hospitality the 
limited local resources might permit. 

As we sat down to dinner, however, I noticed 
that on the bespattered walls of this primitive hos- 
telry were pinned a series of portraits of famous 
English beauties, cut from the pages of illus- 
trated newspapers. There I saw the likenesses of 
a number of great ladies whom I knew well in 
England — Georgina, Countess of Dudley; Milli- 
cent. Duchess of Sutherland; Lady Warwick, and 
others whose names I cannot now recall. Each 
visitor, as he journeyed to and fro and enjoyed 
the modest hospitality of the " Pig and Whistle," 




[271 



HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 273 

had written his name in pencil against the por- 
trait which he thought the most beautiful, thus 
offering his humble and innocuous tribute at the 
shrine of Venus. Such was the sohtary recreation 
of these gallant but futile lovers. 

When I arrived, the result was a tie between 
the three principal competitors; and upon my 
revealing that I knew the subjects of all the por- 
traits, I was invited with uproarious enthusiasm 
to append my name to the most lovely, and so to 
award the apple. I did so, but to whom I gave 
the prize I have never revealed, nor would wild 
horses now induce me to disclose. It remains a 
secret buried for ever in the unwritten records of 
the " Pig and Whistle " at Bunji in the Hima- 
layan Mountains. 



II 

The Top Hat at Teheran 

The hat is the ultimum moriens of respectability. 

O. Wendell Holmes^ The Auto- 
crat of the Breakfast Table, viii, 

WHEN I was at Teheran in the autumn of 
1889, as the guest of the British Minister, 
Sir H. Drummond Wolff, the latter procured for 
me an audience with H.M. Nasr-ed-Din Shah. 
But for this purpose I was informed that a black 
silk top hat such as we wear in the streets of 
London was indispensable. Now, though I should 
never think of travelling either to Timbuctoo or 
even the North Pole without a dress suit — for in 
anxious circumstances this is a recognised hall- 
mark of respectability throughout the world, and 
will procure an audience of almost any living 
potentate — I had not encumbered myself in my 
Persian journeys, where all my effects had to be 
strapped on to the back of a horse, galloping sixty 
or seventy miles in the day, with anything so per- 
ishable as a top hat. Nor was such an object to 
be found for love or money in the shops of 
Teheran. 

The British and other foreign legations were 
ransacked for what they might be able to produce 
in the shape of the obligatory headpiece; but, 

274 



HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 275 

although a few somewhat battered specimens were 
forthcoming, the diplomatic cranium generally 
appeared to be of so ill-developed a character, at 
any rate as represented at that time in the Per- 
sian capital, that not one of them could I per- 
suade to rest upon my head, which happens to be 
unduly large and round. I amused myself by 
repeating the famous remark of Jowett in his 
funeral sermon upon Dean Stanley, which I had 
heard when an undergraduate at Balliol some 
years before, when the Master had said that 
though mitres rained upon Stanley as thick as 
hailstones from heaven, his head was so curiously 
shaped that none of them would precisely fit it. 

The British Minister himself had a head of 
creditable dimensions; and I found by experiment 
that his hat, which was decent though tarnished, 
could be comfortably fitted on my brow. But 
alas! when I suggested that he should surrender 
it to me and go to the audience — for he was to 
present me — in his cocked hat and diplomatic uni- 
form, he absolutely declined to do anything so 
subversive of the official etiquette at a private 
audience. His top hat was his own, and upon 
no other head should it repose. 

Amid this sequence of cruel disappointments 
the time sped rapidly by until the eve of the day 
of audience arrived. 

No top hat had yet been procured, and I con- 
templated the probability of having to go bare- 
headed through the streets, a not too enviable 
experience under a midday Asiatic sun. 



276 TALES OF TRAVEL 

On the very last evening, however, a young 
Persian Minister had invited me to dinner at his 
house in the Persian style, to which a few other 
Europeans had also been bidden. We passed a 
very pleasant evening, and tasted rather than con- 
sumed an immense number of succulent Persian 
dishes ; among the company being a French savant 
of world-wide reputation, who had arrived at 
Teheran in the pursuit of certain anthropological 
researches. As we left the house at a late hour — 
the party to which I belonged being the first to 
go — and passed through the vestibule, I started 
with an exclamation of almost rapturous surprise 
when I beheld standing upon the table, prominent 
and inviting, a black silk hat, glossy, capacious 
and new. With a presence of mind on which I 
have never ceased to congratulate myself, I 
clapped it on to my head, over which it came 
down nearly to the ears, ran out of the house, 
jumped on to my horse, and returned at full 
gallop to the British legation. 

On the next afternoon I was duly presented to 
His Majesty the Shah, my top hat being the 
admiration of all observers, and in the evening 
the headpiece was returned, with profuse apolo- 
gies for the slight mistake, to the learned savant. 
He is doubtless unaware to this hour that but for 
his head and his hat I should never have had the 
honour of an audience with H.M. Nasr-ed-Din 
Shah. 



Ill 

The Entry Into Kabul 

Fortes Fortuna juvat. 

Pliny. 

Blesses his stars and thinks it luxury. 

Addison, Cato, Act I., Sc. iv. 

WHEN in the autumn of 1894 I received an 
invitation from Amir Abdur Rahman 
Khan to visit him in his country, and was making 
the preparations for my journey, I had to con- 
sider the dress in which I should present myself 
at the Afghan capital. As I was the first private 
visitor for many years to Kabul, and as the Amir 
had paid me an exceptional compliment in the 
invitation, knowing that I was a Member of Par- 
liament and had been Under-Secretary for India, 
it was desirable that my appearance should be 
adequate to the occasion. So many incorrect ver- 
sions of my visit have appeared in print that I 
will here set down the facts. If I practised a 
slight measure of deception I trust that it was as 
innocent as it was successful. 

The only official uniform that I possessed, apart 
from the pseudo-military outfit of a Deputy- 
Lieutenant, was that which is worn by an English 
Under-Secretary of State (I was not at that time 
a Privy Councillor) ; and I remembered the 

277 



278 TALES OF TRAVEL 

mediocre impression which this exceedingly plain 
and unattractive garb had produced at the Court 
of Korea. Moreover, I was not the owner of a 
star or cross or medal of any description. I also 
remembered that in conversation with Mr. Ney 
Elias, the famous explorer and member of the 
Indian Political Department, a few years before, 
he had told me that the main reason for the excel- 
lent impression he had produced when engaged 
upon a boundary commission in Afghan Tur- 
kestan, was the extreme width of the gold stripe 
which he had taken the precaution to have sewn 
upon his trousers, and the size of the sword with 
which he had girt his thigh. Acting upon this 
prudent hint I decided that, if I were to produce 
the desired effect at the Afghan capital, I must 
not be too strict in my observance of the rules laid 
down by the Lord Chamberlain at the Court of 
St. James. After all, while in Afghanistan, as 
the guest of the Amir, I should be regarded not 
merely as an ex-Minister of Great Britain, but 
also for the time being as a representative of my 
own nation: and it behoved me therefore to repre- 
sent this double personality with becoming dig- 
nity. 

Accordingly I devised a costume, which made 
up as it was, partly in London, partly at Bombay, 
and partly in the Punjab, was certainly compo- 
site, but would, I thought, be appropriate to the 
occasion. In London, before starting, I called 
upon Messrs. Nathan, the well-known theatrical 
costumers, and there I found a number of stars 



HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 279 

of foreign orders, which had no doubt once 
adorned the bosoms of foreign diplomats, and 
been purchased by Messrs. Nathan for the pur- 
pose of their business. I negotiated the hire of 
three of the most gorgeous of these for the space 
of six months, for a very moderate sum. What 
they were exactly, I do not remember ; but I think 
that they belonged to some of the smaller states 
of Eastern Europe, and I fancy from its splen- 
dour that one was Russian. I also discovered and 
hired by far the biggest pair of gold epaulettes 
that I have ever seen. They must have decorated 
the shoulders of some eighteenth-century Admiral 
of vast proportions, about the time of the French 
wars; and they reposed in a beautiful tin case, 
which was almost the size of a hat -box. 

This was the English contribution to my equip- 
ment. Then, while I was in India, it struck me 
that, for the purpose of an entry on horseback, 
the blue trousers and the boots of the ordinary 
levee dress were hardly sufficiently business-like 
or imposing. I accordingly ordered from a well- 
known Bombay bootmaker a gorgeous pair of 
patent leather Wellington top-boots, which I still 
possess, and which certainly lent a much needed 
elegance to the lower extremities of my person. 
Finally, while staying at Abbottabad with my 
friend Sir William Lockhart, then Commander- 
in-Chief in India, before I entered Afghanistan, 
I consulted him as to procuring a cavalry sword 
of suitable dimensions and splendour, in prefer- 
ence to the miserable skewer that is an appendage 



280 TALES OF TRAVEL 

of the English Court dress. He replied that he 
had the very thing, and forthwith produced a 
gigantic curved weapon with an ivory hilt and a 
magnificent chased and engraved scabbard, which 
had been presented to him in honour of some suc- 
cessful campaign, and the blade of which was cov- 
ered with a lordly inscription. The clatter made 
by this weapon when hung loosely from the belt 
was of the most approved and awe-inspiring 
description. Such was the get-up with which I 
approached my fateful journey. 

Well do I recall the anxiety with which, when 
I drew near to Kabul, I extracted these objects 
from their resting-place and proceeded to don my 
variegated apparel! A special tent had been 
pitched for me by order of the Amir a mile or 
more from the city walls, in order that I might 
halt and exchange my travel-stained riding dress 
for something more becoming to the occasion. I 
was very near to a fiasco, for I had completely 
forgotten that epaulettes (which I had never 
worn) require a special attachment to the shoul- 
ders of the particular uniform of which they form 
a part. Still more was this the case with ap- 
pendages of the titanic proportions •of my pur- 
chase. At the last moment it was only possible 
to correct this unfortunate oversight by a liberal 
use of needle and thread, and I had over an hour's 
hard work with both in the endeavour to sew the 
epaulettes into a position of becoming stabihty on 
my shoulders. Even so, at any sudden jolt or 
movement of the body they were liable to jump 



HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 281 

forward with a leap that sent my heart into my 
mouth and nearly tore asunder their frail attach- 
ments. However, all was at length adjusted. 
The patent leather boots with a pair of handsome 
spurs shone upon my legs; Sir W. Lockhart's 
presentation sword rattled at my side; my breast 
was ablaze with the insignia of unknown diplo- 
mats of the past ; and a cocked hat nodded on my 
head. 

Thus attired I entered the town, and was 
escorted to the palace. I flattered myself, as I 
was conducted into the Durbar Hall of the Amir, 
that I created the desired impression, though I 
was a little perplexed when His Highness be- 
trayed an admiring interest in my trophies, and 
wished to know exactly what services or exploits 
they commemorated, or the favour of what mon- 
arch they testified. To these inconvenient queries 
I could only return the most general and depre- 
catory replies. But for the gilded epaulettes, with 
their ample bullion, hanging in rich festoons, 
there was reserved the greatest triumph. For the 
Amir, sending for the court tailor, pointedly 
called his attention to these glittering appendages 
as of a character necessitating serious notice and 
even reproduction at the Court of Afghanistan; 
and for all I know they may have left a perma- 
nent mark upon the sartorial equipment of the 
God-granted Government. 

Little more than four years later I had as many 
genuine orders on my bosom (though not drawn 
from quite so wide a range) as it could conveni- 



282 TALES OF TRAVEL 

ently hold; and I was corresponding with my 
friend the Amir as the authorised representative 
of my Sovereign. But I still cherish the fond 
belief that my improvised entry into the Afghan 
capital was not altogether without eclat and even 
distinction. 

Somewhat later, in the course of my reading, I 
came across a passage which showed that I was 
by no means the first English traveller to find it 
desirable to pay special deference in respect of 
costume to the ideas or etiquette of an Asiatic 
Court. When W. Hawkins went out in command 
of the newly-founded East India Company to 
India in 1607, to proceed to the court of the 
Great Mogul (Jehangir), " in order that he might 
appear with becoming splendour, he was furnished 
with scarlet apparel, his cloak being lined with 
taffeta, and embroidered with silver lace." ^ 

Hawkins, it is clear, easily beat me in point of 
raiment, but I flatter myself that he had not my 
unique collection of stars. 

1 W. Foster, Early Travels in India, p. 62. 



IV 

The Annamite Girl 

I am black but comely. 

Song of Solomon, i. 5. 

WHEN I came back from one of my long 
journeys in the East, in the course of 
which I had visited the French possessions of 
Tongking, Annam and Cochin- China, I dehvered 
a lecture at the Royal Geographical Society on 
the subject of my travels. The meeting was held 
in the theatre of the University of London in 
Burlington Gardens, and was honoured by the 
presence of King Edward VII., then Prince of 
Wales, who occupied a seat upon the platform. 
Every bench from floor to roof was filled, and 
many people were turned away. At the end of 
my paper the illustrations which I had selected 
from a large number of photographs, either taken 
by myself or collected during my tour, were 
thrown from a lantern on to the screen, each slide 
being preceded by a brief explanatory description 
from myself. All went well until, after exhibit- 
ing slides of the scenery and buildings of Tong- 
king, I said, '' I will now show you the picture of 
an Annamite girl, in order to prove that the 
native population, though possessing marked 
Mongolian features, are far from destitute of 

283 



284 TALES OF TRAVEL 

personal charm. Indeed," I added, " I thought 
some of them quite pretty." 

All eyes were turned upon the screen, upon 
which there forthwith appeared, magnified to far 
more than life size, the figure of a seated Anna- 
mite girl, destitute of any but the smallest shred 
of clothing. 

The audience, after a slight pause of bewildered 
surprise, burst into roars of laughter, again and 
again renewed, in which His Royal Highness 
heartily joined; nor did he ever cease to chaff me 
afterwards about my Annamite lady friend. No 
explanation availed anything. It was useless for 
me to declare — ^though it was the strict truth — 
that the photograph was one of a packet which 
had been presented to me by the Governor- Gen- 
eral of French Indo-China, in order to illustrate 
the people and habits of that country, and that I 
had incautiously handed the entire packet, with 
marks upon those which were to be put upon the 
slides, to the lantern operator, who in a spirit as 
I imagine, of mischief, had ignored my instruc- 
tions and selected this unmarked photograph for 
reproduction. 

No one beheved me. But from the moment 
that the figure of the young girl was thrown upon 
the screen, the success of the lecture was assured, 
in the same hour that the character of the lecturer 
was irreparably destroyed. 



V 

The State Entey Into Datia 

Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen. 
Fallen from his high estate. 

Dryden, " Alexander's Feast,'* 

IT is customary, when the Viceroy of India 
visits the capital of a native state, for the 
Prince whose guest he is to receive him at the rail- 
way station — should he arrive by rail — and to 
conduct him personally to the palace or camp 
prepared for his reception. 

The chief on this occasion brings out his state 
equipages, and ordinarily ushers the Viceroy into 
a state landau, drawn by four horses with postil- 
lions, in which he takes his seat at the side of his 
guest, the remaining two places, with their backs 
to the horses, being taken by the Military Secre- 
tary and the A.D.C. in waiting. 

On the occasion of my visit to the central In- 
dian state of Datia in 1902 — the native chief of 
which was a fine old fellow with henna-dyed 
beard, a great elephant rider in his day — I ob- 
served on arriving at the station that the Prince 
had paid me the unusual compliment of harness- 
ing no fewer than six horses with three postillions 
to the state landau. Into this stately equipage 
we clambered, and proceeded at a smart pace 

285 



2B6 TALES OF TRAVEL 

towards the walls of the ancient town of Datia, 
situated at a slight distance on the crest of a hill, 
and crowned by the massive and sombre castle of 
Bir Singh Deo. The state troops lined the road: 
some were on foot, some on richly caparisoned 
horses; others were on camels, or in palkis, and 
held obsolete weapons in their hands. 

All went well until we approached the city 
gates, when I realised that the fortifications of 
of the town, which were mediaeval in origin and 
design, included, not a single barbican or outer 
gate, often placed for defensive purposes at right 
angles to the main entrance, but a double barrier 
of this description, so that any one entering the 
town had to turn a corner, almost at right angles, 
not once but twice before penetrating the main 
entrance in the walls. I realised the full peril of 
the situation when I saw the leaders with their 
postillion disappear altogether from sight, as they 
turned the first angle — to be followed presently 
by the middle pair. What was happening or 
might happen out of sight in the distance it was 
impossible to conjecture. It was bad enough that 
the landau itself was lurching heavily and with 
difficulty escaped impinging upon the sides of the 
great brick archways. By some unheard-of skill 
or good fortune the two comers were negotiated 
without disaster, but as the team pulled itself 
together and entered the inner gateway of the 
town, they seemed of one accord to realise that 
the strain was more than they ought to have been 
called upon to bear, and they broke into a sharp 



HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 287 

gallop which the postillions were powerless to 
restrain. The street was very narrow, was paved 
with stone and consequently slippery, and had no 
pavement — only a sort of gutter or ditch at the 
side. Moreover, the road presently descended by 
a rather sharp incline. The welcoming shouts of 
the good people of Datia, who crowded the gal- 
leries and roofs of the houses, added to the fright 
of the horses, the big landau began to sway dan- 
gerously from side to side, and the end was mani- 
festly near. 

Suddenly one or other, I daresay more, of the 
horses slipped up and came with a crash to the 
ground, the vehicle turned over, and my next sen- 
sation was that of finding myself sitting on the 
top of the old Maharaja, in all his finery of silks 
and jewels, in the stone gutter. No harm was 
done: an intelligent A.D.C. sat on the head of 
the plunging horses; the traces were cut; the car- 
riage was with difficulty dragged on one side; and, 
changing into a later vehicle in the procession, we 
resumed our state entry unhindered and unhurt. 
The old Maharaja was very crestfallen; but, 
being a sportsman, he took the matter in good 
part, and soon recovered his equanimity. 

An amusing sequel occurred when I passed on 
from Datia to pay my next visit to the neighbour- 
ing state of Orcha. In the course of my cere- 
monial visit to the Maharaja of Orcha, who had 
heard of the contretemps and was inspired by 
feelings of amiable rivalry towards his princely 
colleague, I explained to him what had happened. 



288 TALES OF TRAVEL 

" At this stage," I said, " I found myself in the 
melancholy position of sitting upon the head of 
His Highness the Maharaja of Datia in the 
ditch." " And a very proper position for Your 
Excellency to occupy," was the immediate and 
courtly rejoinder of the old chief, who, it was 
suspected, viewed the mishap that had attended 
his neighbour with some subdued satisfaction. 



VI 

The Curiosity of Li Hung Chang 

There are some things which men confess with ease^ and 
others with difficulty. 

Epictetus, " On Inconsistency/' cap. xxi. 

TRAVELLERS in the East will be very 
familiar with one aspect of Oriental men- 
tality, which is always amusing and often of 
value, if at times a little disconcerting. I allude 
to the idiosyncrasy which prompts the Eastern, 
even of the highest rank, to put and to answer, 
with equal good manners, and with a total lack 
of impertinence, the most searching and intimate 
questions as to age, profession, family history and 
income. 

As a rule in the West you do not, on the first 
occasion that you meet a stranger, ask him how 
old he is, whether he is married, and if so how 
long he has borne the yoke, what is the size of his 
family, and what are the emoluments of his pro- 
fession. There is a certain reserve about such 
matters, the discussion or disclosure of which is 
supposed to be the reward of intimacy and to 
mark the later rather than the opening stages of 
acquaintance. But the Eastern thinks and acts 
quite otherwise. He wants to know what manner 
of person he is encountering, and to place him 
fairly and squarely in his normal environment. 

289 



290 TALES OF TRAVEL 

For this purpose it is important to learn the de- 
tails of his domestic existence, when he entered 
the world, what he has done since, what are his 
present circumstances, and so forth. 

The Oriental is much more concerned to ascer- 
tain these elemental conditions than he is to ex- 
change opinions or to analyse character. He is 
not bad at the latter operation either, but it must 
come in its proper place. Thus, in all my travels, 
whether I was the guest of an Asiatic monarch, 
or a Kurdish chieftain, or a Persian satrap 
(though in the latter case the curiosity was apt 
to be veiled by an almost Gallic polish of man- 
ner), I was always prepared to be put through 
my paces in this respect, and to reveal the fullest 
details of my age and circumstances. I have 
related elsewhere how much I fell in the estima- 
tion of the Foreign Minister of Korea, when he 
learned that, though an ex-Minister, I was not 
married to a member of the British royal family! 

Salary I found to be a perennial source of 
interest. The Eastern governor — who lives as a 
rule by successful spoliation of his subjects or 
subordinates, and who regards office not as the 
gratification of an honourable ambition, but as 
the opportunity of replenishing a depleted ex- 
chequer — always wanted to know what an Eng- 
lish Minister or ruler received or did in analogous 
conditions. What was his actual stipend? What 
were his perquisites? Was office a convenient and 
agreeable source of wealth? What powers did it 
enable the occupant to exercise? And did he 



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o 

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W 
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[291 



HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 293 

wield them, as was fit and proper, for his own 
personal advantage? 

Furthermore, family details never failed to in- 
terest and enthuse. Exactly how old was the 
visitor? How had he spent his life? How had he 
fared in the marriage lottery? How many chil- 
dren had he? What was he doing with them or 
they with him? I ended by feeling not the smallest 
resentment, but on the contrary a good deal of 
mild pleasure, in communicating these details — 
which seemed to place one on a footing of easy 
familiarity with the interlocutor — and I developed 
a laudable aptitude in putting the most penetrat- 
ing questions in reply. Nor can I recall an occa- 
sion on which any of these questions either on one 
side or the other excited the smallest resentment, 
while they frequently resulted in the exchange of 
useful and diverting information. 

I think, however, that among my hardiest inter- 
rogators I must give the palm to the famous Chi- 
nese statesman, Li Hung Chang. When I visited 
Tientsin in 1892, he was Viceroy of Chihli, and 
was already in somewhat advanced years, being 
over seventy-one years of age. Nevertheless at 
our interviews in his official yamen he inter- 
rogated me with a pertinacity which excited my 
warmest admiration; and I recall his long lean 
figure (he was over six feet high) clad in a grey 
silken robe with black silk cape, his little beady 
eyes, his quizzical look, and the imperturbable 
gravity with which he put to me the most search- 
ing questions. 



294 TALES OF TRAVEL 

A few years later he came to England, when 
I was Under-Secretary in the Foreign Office to 
Lord Salisbury, and it became my duty to con- 
duct him to the House of Commons, which pro- 
vided ample material for his rather mordant curi- 
osity, and also to Hatfield for a garden-party. It 
was on the latter occasion that he achieved what 
I regarded as the greatest triumph in the par- 
ticular line of inquiry of which I am here writing. 

While we were being photographed on the ter- 
race, he suddenly asked me once again how old I 
was; and upon my replying that I was thirty-six 
— " Dear me," he said, " you are exactly the same 
age as the German Emperor." I acknowledged 
the impeachment, whereupon he continued as fol- 
lows : 

Li Hung Chang: " The German Emperor, 
however, has six sons. How many have you? " 

Curzon: " I have only recently been married, 
and I regret that so far I have none." 

Li Hung Change, " Then what have you been 
doing all this time? " 

To this question I admit that I could not find, 
nor even now can I suggest, an appropriate 
answer. 



VII 

The State Entry Into Koweit 

They have their exits and their entrances. 

Shakspeare, As You Like It, Act II., Sc. vii. 

MY official entry into Koweit, at the head of 
the Persian Gulf, in November 1903 was 
of a character somewhat different from the less 
orthodox entry into Kabul, which I have before 
described. But it was not without its vicissitudes. 

I was the first Viceroy of India to visit Koweit, 
and the Sheikh Mubarrak, with whom I had re- 
cently concluded a secret treaty of friendly alli- 
ance on behalf of His Majesty's Government, 
and was himself a striking and powerful type of 
Arab chieftain, was anxious to treat me with be- 
coming honour. 

This desire on his part demanded a ceremonial 
entry into the capital of his state; and in order 
that this might be accomplished with becoming 
display, it was necessary that, instead of landing 
at the town itself, which is built on the shore of 
the gulf, our party should be taken in boats to a 
point about three miles away, where we could 
land on a shelving spit of sand and be escorted 
from thence to the town. As we neared the 
landing-place I observed that the Sheikh with his 
principal retainers and a great crowd of mounted 

295 



296 TALES OF TRAVEL 

Arabs were assembled on the shore to greet me, 
and that in front of the crowd was a small open 
vehicle or victoria, drawn by a pair of Arab 
horses and evidently intended for the accommo- 
dation of the Sheikh and myself. I was informed 
that this was the first time that such a vehicle had 
ever been seen at Koweit; and that it had been 
specially ordered by the Sheikh from Bombay to 
do honour to his visitor. 

Accordingly after exchanging the customary 
salaams, the Sheikh and I entered the equipage, 
which set off at a brisk trot for the town, escorted 
by the camel corps of twelve to twenty men, and 
by some two hundred to two hundred and fifty 
horsemen. Some of these wore helmets and coats 
of chain mail. The Sheikh's flag, with the timely 
inscription " Trust in God " sewn in white on a 
scarlet background, was carried in front. 

Meanwhile the whole of my staff, including the 
British Minister at Teheran, who accompanied 
me, were provided with Arab mounts, the tall 
peaked saddles of which, with the shovel stirrups, 
are not always conducive to the comfort or even 
to the security of riders unused to them. 

However, every one climbed up in due course, 
and the procession moved off in a cloud of dust. 
At this stage it apparently became necessary for 
the cavalry escort to express their rejoicing not 
merely by war-cries of the most blood-curdling 
description, but by firing ball cartridge promis- 
cuously either in the air or into the ground at the 
feet of their prancing steeds. Others hurled their 




[297 



HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 299 

spears frantically into the air. The result was the 
wildest confusion. The air resounded with the 
fusillade, and the ground was a whirlwind of 
careering horses and yelling cavaliers and spurt- 
ing sand. Some of the horsemen were bare- 
headed, and their plaited hair streamed in the 
wind as they dashed along; others wore flowing 
garments of orange and red and golden brown. 
The chief was clad in a broad-striped robe. 

In the midst of the scene I saw the form of the 
British Minister shot clean over the head of his 
steed and deposited with no small violence upon 
the ground. Nothing daunted, he courageously 
resumed his seat and, amid a hail of bullets, con- 
tinued the uneven tenor of his way. 

As we approached the town, we passed through 
the entire population (the bazaars having been 
closed for the day), who were ranged in two rows 
on either side of our route. The prevailing colour 
of their men's dress was dark brown, but all wore 
the white Arab hejfieli with the twisted camel hair 
band round the head. Behind them stood the 
women, closely veiled and with their figures con- 
cealed in dark indigo cloaks of an almost funereal 
appearance, below which were skirts of gaudy cot- 
ton prints. As the cortege passed they indulged 
in a shrill wail or series of ululations, which might 
have been mistaken for a dirge of exceptional 
poignancy, were it not that, as I learned, the 
sounds were intended to express the extremity of 
rapture and joy. 

Thus escorted, we presently reached the so- 



300 TALES OF TRAVEL 

called palace of the Sheikh, a modest edifice, built 
for the most part of sun-dried bricks and situated 
in a very narrow street or lane of the town. We 
climbed to the first floor of this building for the 
exchange of the customary courtesies, accom- 
panied by coffee and cigarettes, of Arab etiquette. 

As I sat there, bandying civilities with my host, 
a sound of violent rending and tearing, accom- 
panied by loud shouts and plunging of horse- 
hoofs, broke the solemn hush of our palaver. Not 
a word was said on the subject. But when the 
interview was over and I descended to* the street, 
only the fragments of the Bombay victoria, re- 
duced to matchwood, littered the ground, and the 
steeds had vanished! It appeared that these ani- 
mals, who had never before been harnessed to a 
vehicle, had made up for their orderly behaviour, 
while conducting the Sheikh and myself from the 
landing-place to the town, by kicking the some- 
what flimsy construction to pieces as soon as they 
were left alone. I doubt if a victoria has been 
seen in Koweit since. 

We had to feel our way very gingerly, on foot, 
over heaps of ordure and amid indescribable filth 
to a nearer point of embarkation 'for our vessel, 
which was lying at anchor at a considerable dis- 
tance in the shallow waters of the gulf. Thus 
began and thus ignobly ended my Viceregal entry 
into Koweit. 




[301 



VIII 

The Captured Colonel 

But that I am forbid 
To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
I could a tale unfold. 

Shakspeare, Hamlet, Act. I., Sc. iv. 

WHEN I was at Cairo in the winter of 1882 
I encountered an English colonel who 
was for a brief period the hero or the victim of a 
diplomatic incident that earned him no small noto- 
riety, and involved Her Majesty's Government in 
a pecuniary sacrifice which they were very loth to 
accept. The colonel, who was the owner of a 

small property near L in Turkish territory, 

was seized and carried off at night by a party of 
Greek brigands under a famous desperado, and 
was held in captivity, as he told me, for a period 
of thirty-two days. The bandits declined to sur- 
render their prize for any less sum than £12,000, 
with a number of gold watches and chains thrown 
in; and this ransom, which the colonel was alone 
in not regarding as excessive, had to be paid by 
Her Majesty's Government. Indeed the chief of 
the band sent a message to the British consul, who 
was conducting the negotiations for the release, 
which contained the conventional but still for- 
midable threat: " If the ransom is not paid to the 
last farthing, I shall send in six days his nose, in 

303 



304 TALES OF TRAVEL 

seven days his ears, and on the eighth day his 
head." In these circumstances Her Majesty's 
Government had no alternative but to surrender. 
With commendable astuteness, however, they re- 
imbursed themselves by deducting the sum from 
the revenues of Cyprus, which were at that time 
paid over to the Turkish Government. 

As such, the transaction was one that gave a 
certain degree of satisfaction to all parties. The 
colonel regained his freedom, and was, so to 
speak, weighed, as certain Eastern potentates are 
in the habit of being, against his weight in gold. 
The British Government extricated their repre- 
sentative without being really out of pocket. The 
Turks, although penalised, nevertheless escaped 
the indignity of having to make a cash payment. 
The brigands got the loot and the watches which 
they desired. 

But one thing rankled in the breast of the 
colonel. The latter, who was an unmarried man, 
professed the greatest indignation that the an- 
nouncement in the Press, circulated to the four 
corners of Europe, had been couched in the fol- 
lowing terms: 

Le Colonel et sa femme ont ete pris par les brigands. 

This aspersion upon his moral character and upon 

the austerity of his domestic existence at L 

would, he thought, greatly damage him in the eyes 
of the Government whom he served. He spent a 
good deal of time, therefore, in assuring me, as I 



HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 305 

have no doubt he had done to his official superiors, 
that the phrase in question was a misprint, and 
that what had really been sent out was the fol- 
lowing: 

Le Colonel en sa ferme a ete pris par les brigands. 

I believe that the colonel was innocent. On the 
other hand, there was a strong party, indeed the 
majority, who persisted in holding, in spite of his 
asseverations, that the printer had been maligned, 
and that the revised version rendered insufficient 
homage to the traditions and the practices of the 
East. 



IX 

How I Woj^ A Vote 

Cast thy bread upon the waters : for thou shalt find it after 
many days. — Ecclesiastes xi. 1. 

WHEN I was standing for Parliament in 
South Derbyshire in the General Election 
of 1885 — a contest in which I was handsomely 
beaten, but in which every vote might have been 
of value — my agent at Derby received a telegram 
from an unknown person a few days before the 
poll, which contained these mysterious words: 

" Is the Mr. Curzon who is standing for South 
Derbyshire the gentleman who travelled in a first- 
class railway carriage from Catania to Girgenti 
on May 1, 1885? If so I will come and vote for 
him." 

My agent, who had never heard either of 
Catania or Girgenti, brought me this cryptic 
message, as to the significance of which I was 
myself a little uncertain. It was true that in the 
spring of that year, after climbing Etna, I had 
proceeded from Catania to Girgenti by train. 
But I could not for the moment recall any more 
precise memory of the journey. Nor had I my 

306 



HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 307 

diary with me to refresh my recollection of what 
might have passed. 

The telegram was answered in the affirmative, 
and I forgot all about it, until on the polling day, 
happening to go into the agent's office, I found a 
gentleman there who acknowledged the authorship 
of the message and revealed his identity. Then 
and there I remembered an English traveller who 
with his wife had journeyed with me in the same 
compartment, and with whom I had entered into 
conversation. He had apparently seen my name 
on a label on my hat-box, and reading in the 
papers that a Conservative candidate of the same 
name was standing for South Derbyshire, for 
which he happened to possess a vote, and being a 
sound Conservative himself, he had on receiving 
my agent's reply to his first inquiry decided to 
come down and give me his support. 

Gladly did we exchange salutations and revive 
the memories of that half -forgotten day. And 
then it was that I learned what had won the 
favour of my unknown friend. 

"Do you not remember," he said, " that as the 
train wound in and out of the parched Sicilian 
valleys, the young man with the hat-box kept 
pointing to the sister heights of Castro Giovanni 
and Calascibetta, rearing their magnificent natural 
bastions, crowned with the ruins of feudal towers, 
high into the air; how he told us that Castro 
Giovanni, the nobler of the two elevations, 2600 
feet above the sea, was the Enna of the Ancients, 
where Proserpine had been carried off by Pluto; 



308 TALES OF TRAVEL 

how the young man quoted Cicero, who had thus 
described it: 



Enna est loco perexcelso atque edito, quo in summo 
est aequata agro planities, et aquae perennes; tota vero 
ab omni aditu circumcisa atque dirempta est; quam 
circa lacus lucique sunt plurimi et laetissimi flores omni 
tempore anni; 

how he said that Newman in Callista had referred 
to its castled splendour; and how it reminded him 
somewhat of Acrocorinthos hfting its battlemented 
crest above the waters of the Gulf of Corinth ; and 
also of the fortress Peak of Banias or Caesarea 
Philippi in Palestine; and how in those now deso- 
late surroundings — ^the result of sm^face mining — 
Proserpine would hardly have been tempted to 
stray in search of flowers, and the hunting hounds 
could scarcely have lost their scent (as the legend 
goes) for the exceeding fragrance of the sur- 
roundings. Do you not further remember," he 
said, " as the train twisted in and out, now showing 
the great summit on one side now on the other, 
how the young man with the hat-box kept jump- 
ing up and insisting that his fellow-passengers 
should share his enthusiasm, and exchange seats 
with him, and enjoy the spectacle?" 

Later on I looked up my diary, and there indeed 
was the reference, and there lay the explanation 
of the vote so easily and gaily won ; and therefrom 
sprang a friendship with my companion of the 
Sicilian railway carriage, whose vote was ever at 



HUMOURS OF TRAVEL 309 

the disposal of the Conservative candidate for 
South Derbyshire, doomed in the great majority 
of cases, I regret to say, to be not more fortunate 
in his electoral fortunes than the young man with 
the hat-box was in November 1885. 



Ten 
THE SINGING SANDS 



Ten 
THE SINGING SANDS 

And even things without life giving sounds whether pipe or 
harp^ except they give a distinction in the sounds, how shall 
it be known what is piped or harped? — 1 Cor. xiv. 7. 

Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas. 

Virgil, Georgic ii., 490. 

IN the " Voice of Memnon " I alluded to the 
phenomenon known in different places and 
parts of the world as the Singing Sands, Sound- 
ing Sands, Rumbling Sands, Musical Sands, 
Barking Sands, Moving Sands, i.e., cases in which 
certain sands, either when set in motion, or even 
in some cases when apparently quiescent, give 
forth sounds as of music which are sometimes 
audible at a great distance. In former days 
these tales, when they appeared in the pages of 
mediaeval travellers, were attributed to local 
superstition or to an excited imagination, and 
were not supposed to have any scientific basis. 
In the course of my travels I have made a study 
of these cases, about which I have found a good 
deal not only of literary inexactitude, but of 
scientific 'uncertainty, to prevail; and as the rec- 
ords of the phenomena in question are widely 
scattered and accessible to but few, and as no 
attempt, so far as I know, has ever been made to 

313 



314 TALES OF TRAVEL 

collect and correlate them all, or to arrive at a 
definite classification, it may be worth while to set 
down the results of my own researches. The sub- 
ject is one which, while severely scientific in one 
aspect, is in another full of a strange romance, 
since the voice of the desert, speaking in notes now 
as of harp strings, anon as of trumpets and drums, 
and echoing down the ages, is invested with a 
mystic fascination to which none can turn a deaf 
ear. 

There has been a general inclination to confuse 
with each other all cases of Musical Sands, and 
to assume that they are produced by similar 
causes or can be covered by a single definition. 
The very reverse is the fact; for although a cer- 
tain acoustic property is common to all these 
cases, it is so varying a character, is created in cir- 
cumstances so widely different, and is attributable 
to such divergent causes, that no one generalisa- 
tion admits of being applied. I shall distinguish 
quite definitely between the singing sand-hills or 
slopes or dunes, and the sand beaches that also 
produce musical sounds. The former are mainly 
to be found in Asia, though examples have been 
reported in Africa and America also. The latter 
are much more widely diffused. It is about the 
Singing Hills of Asia that the atmosphere of mys- 
tery principally clings, and here I shall let each 
of the few travellers who have heard the music 
speak in his own words, so that we may compare 
their evidence before we attempt to form a con- 
clusion. 



THE SINGING SANDS 315 

I. Musical Sand-hills 

The Sounding Sands of Twnyang 

If the sands of the desert speak, it were strange 
indeed were their voice not heard in the illimitable 
solitudes of Central Asia, where pilgrims for cen- 
turies have wended their patient way across the 
wastes, amid every variety of formation that sand, 
under the influence of wind or climate, could 
assume. It is with no surprise, therefore, that we 
find the doyen of mediaeval travellers, Marco 
Polo — who saw so much and heard so much more, 
and who recorded both — when he crossed the 
Great Gobi Desert, thus narrating his experience: 

Sometimes you shall hear the sound of musical 
instruments and still more commonly the sound of 
drums/ 

He does not actually say whether he heard the 
desert music. But the inference is reasonable; 
and if, as also seems probable, he is referring to a 
particular spot, then it can hardly be other than 
the celebrated Sounding Sand-hill near the Caves 
of the Thousand Buddhas in Tunyang. 

This phenomenon is the subject of frequent 
mention in the works of early Chinese writers, 
where it is commonly called Ming-sha-shan, or the 
Rumbling Sand-hill. For instance, in the Tun 
Huang Lu, one of the Chinese MSS. brought 

1 Yule's Marco Polo, vol. ii., p. 203. London, 1874. 



316 TALES OF TRAVEL 

back by Sir Aurel Stein from Tunyang, and dat- 
ing from the ninth century a.d., we find the fol- 
lowing passage: 

The Hill of Sounding Sand is 10 U away from the 
city. It stretches 80 U east and west, and 40 li north 
and south, and it reaches a height of 500 feet in places. 
The whole mass is made up entirely of pure sand. This 
hill has strange supernatural qualities. Its peaks taper 
up to a point, and between them there is a mysterious 
hole which the sand has not been able to cover up. In 
the height of summer the sand gives out sounds of itself, 
and if trodden by men or horses the noise is heard many 
tens of li away. It is customary on the tuan-wu day 
(the Dragon festival on the fifth of the fifth moon) for 
men and women from the city to clamber up to some of 
the highest points and rush down again in a body, which 
causes the sand to give forth a loud rumbling sound like 
thunder. Yet when you come to look at it the next 
morning the hill is found to be just as steep as before. 
The ancients called this hill the Sounding Sand; they 
deified the sand and worshipped it there.^ 

Similar references are to be found in the Wu 
Tai Shih, where the hill is described as " emitting, 
summer and winter, a rumbling noise like thun- 
der," and in another Chinese record, which says 
that "when the weather is bright and sunny the 
sand emits sounds which are heard in the city." 

When Sir Aurel Stein himself visited this 

'i- Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society, pp. 43-44, January 1915. 
Vide also Bretschneider's Mediaeval Researches, vol. ii., p. 216; 
E^musat, Yille de Khotan, p. 77 ; and Palladius, Journal of the North 
China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society^ N.S., vol. x., p. 5 (1875). 



THE SINGING SANDS 317 

locality in 1907 he thus described the phe- 
nomenon, situated on the shores of the Crescent 
Lake, quite close to the caves: 

The southern shore of the lake was occupied by a 
number of picturesque Moslem temples rising on terraces 
from the water's edge and decorated with a queer medley 
of Buddhist and Taoist statues and frescoes. Just in 
front of them and across the lake rose the famous 
Resounding Sand-hill, often mentioned in old Chinese 
records. ... I had ridden out to this secluded spot to 
enjoy undisturbed work .... But Chiang, my only 
companion, though he had brought out work too, could 
not forego the temptation of climbing to the top of the 
huge dune in his dainty velvet boots, just to make the 
sand slide down from there and hear the " miraculous 
rumbling " it produced. . . . We all duly heard the faint 
sound like that of distant carts rumbling, and Chiang 
felt elated and put it down in his journal.^ 

The sound, it will be noted, is here likened not 
so much to that of any musical instrument as to 
a distant rumbling noise, arising clearly from the 
displacement of the particles or grains of sand. 

Reg-i'Ruwan, or the Moving Sands of Kabul 

In the generation immediately succeeding 
Marco Polo, i,e,, in the early fourteenth century, 
another European traveller^ the inimitable Friar 
Odoric, of Pordenone in Italy, also made his way 

1 Ruins of Desert Cathay, by M. Aurel Stein, vol. ii., p. 161. 
London, 1912. 



318 TALES OF TRAVEL 

across the Asiatic Continent and also heard the 
Singing Sands. His description is more precise: 

Another great and terrible thing I saw; for as I went 
through a certain valley which lieth by the River of 
Delights, I saw therein many dead corpses lying. And 
I heard also therein sundry kinds of music but chiefly 
nakers,^ which were marvellously played upon. And so 
great was the noise thereof that very great fear came 
upon me. Now this valley is seven or eight miles long; 
and if any unbeliever enter therein he quitteth it never 
again, but perisheth incontinently. Yet I hesitated not 
to go in that I might see once for all what the matter 
was. And when I had gone in I saw, as I have said, such 
numbers of corpses as no one without seeing it could 
deem credible. And at one side of the valley, in the very 
rock, I beheld as it were the face of a man, very great 
and terrible, so very terrible indeed that for my exceeding 
great fear my spirit seemed to die in me. . . . And so 
I came at length to the other end of the valley, and there 
I ascended a hill of sand and looked around me. But 
nothing could I descry, only I still heard those nakers to 
play, which were played so marvellously." ^ 

Making every allowance for the superstitious 
inaccuracies of the Friar, there can, I think, be 
no doubt that the great image by which he was so 
terrified was one of the colossal rock idols of 
Bamian, hewn in the walls of a gorge in the main 
Hindu Kush range, to the north-west of Kabul 
— they are images of Buddha — and that the hill 

i/.e., nagaras, or kettledrums. 

^Cathay and the Way Thither (Hakluyt Society), vol. ii., pp. 
262-5. 



THE SINGING SANDS 319 

of sand which gave forth the music of drums was 
the Reg-i-Ruwan or Moving Sand, some forty 
miles to the north of that city, on the slope of the 
Paghman range. The corpses which he saw were 
doubtless those of the hapless travellers who had 
been robbed and slain by the bandits who infested 
that region. This is the first definite reference by 
a European traveller to the Afghan Singing 
Sands. It is true that the Reg-i-Ruwan is not so 
near to the Bamian Gorge as the words would 
seem to imply; but in the case of a traveller com- 
ing to Kabul from the North or from Afghan 
Turkestan, the direction and order are correctly 
given. 

The Emperor Baber, who rode, and drank, and 
hunted in the neighbourhood of his capital, Kabul, 
and who had an eye for every wonder or beauty 
of nature, was not likely to be unaware of so 
strange a scene. He was more than once at 
Reg-i-Ruwan, where indeed he spent Christmas 
Day, 1519. He did not apparently hear the 
music, perhaps because he was not there at the 
right season of the year, but he repeated the 
popular belief: 

Between these plains is a small hill in which there is 
a line of sandy ground, reaching from the top to the 
bottom of the hill. They called it Khwajeh-reg-rewan. 
They say that in the summer season the sound of drums 
and nagarets issues from this sand.^ 

'^Memoirs of Bdher, p. 146, translated by J. Leyden and W. 
Erskine. London, 1887. The original Turki has duhul, i.e., drum, 
and nagara, i.e., kettledrum. 



320 TALES OF TRAVEL 

Then ensues a long gap in our records until, in 
the second quarter of the nineteenth century, the 
political and commercial interests of the Govern- 
ment of India were responsible for the appear- 
ance at Kabul of a number of British officers or 
travellers, who were allowed by Dost Mohammed 
a freedom of movement about his country which 
nearly a century later is still denied to the for- 
eigner. The most famous of these men was Cap- 
tain, afterwards Sir Alexander Burnes, destined 
to be murdered at Kabul only a few years later. 
Among the others who were there at the same 
time were G. T. Vigne, the traveller, Charles 
Masson, the correspondent of the East India 
Company, Lieutenant John Wood, the explorer 
of the sources of the Oxus, and Dr. P. B. Lord, 
the companion of the latter in his journey. 

The first of these in point of time to refer to 
the Reg-i-Ruwan was G. T. Vigne, who with 
Masson was in the neighbourhood of the spot in 
August 1836, though I think it is quite clear from 
their joint descriptions that they did not actually 
visit the sand-hill or test the sound, much less hear 
the music. 

Vigne wrote as follows: 

On a detached and comparatively low hill a whitish 
streak is observed, extending from the summit to the 
foot of it. This is the Reg-Ruwan, or Running Sand, 
mentioned by Baber. The natives say that it runs up 
again, and that it is never diminished; and that there 
is a cave at its foot, where noises are heard, and into 
which the sand falls and disappears. It may^be partly 



THE SINGING SANDS 321 

owing to the decomposition of granite or other rocks, 
or to the peculiar shape or situation of the hill, which 
collects there the particles of sand, taken up by the 
mountain gusts, or perhaps to both these reasons, or 
neither.^ 

It will be observed that in the above passage 
Vigne is much more concerned with the phe- 
nomenon of the perpetual re-creation of the sand- 
hill in this isolated spot than with the noise, which 
indeed he does not directly connect with the move- 
ment of the sand. His companion Masson simi- 
larly connects the sound with the cave and with 
the Mohammedan superstitions about the latter: 

At the hill of Regh Rawan, remarkable for the bed of 
sand lying upon its southern face, which gives it both its 
name and singular appearance, is a subterranean cave 
which has a descent by hewn and artificial stairs, and 
may therefore be supposed to mean something more than 
the ordinary rock cave. It has never been duly explored, 
and there might be danger in the attempt to descend into 
it. The Mahommedans have made it a ziarat, and have 
an idea that it is the spot where their expected Imam 
Medi will issue upon earth; and they believe that on 
Roz Juma, or Sacred Friday, the sound of nagaras, or 
drums, may be heard in it.^ 

The local belief about the Mahdi would appear 
to have either started from or to have given rise 

1 Personal Narrative of a Visit to Ohuzni, Kahul am,d Afghanistan, 
p. 219. London, 1840. 

2 Narrative of Journeys in Afghanista/ifh, etc., vol. iii., p. 167. 
London, 1844. 



322 TALES OF TRAVEL 

to another incident which is thus reported by 
Vigne (p. 223) : 

Some years ago a fanatic from the Kohistan took up 
his abode in a cave near, I believe, the Reg-Ruwan, and 
said that he was Imaum Mihedi, who is expected by the 
Mussulmen to appear at the end of the world. He col- 
lected upwards of 20,000 men, many of whom dressed 
themselves as birds and beasts, and marched towards 
Kabul. They were met and defeated by the troops of 
the Vizier Futteh Khan. 

Much more exact is the description given by 
Burnes himself, accompanied by a rough litho- 
graphic illustration, which depicts his native escort 
scrambling up the face of the sand-hill in order 
to evoke the music: 

The description of Baber, though it appears marvel- 
lous, is accurate. Reg-Ruwan is about 40 miles north 
of Kabul towards Hindu Kosh, and near the base of the 
mountains. Two ridges of hills, detached from the rest, 
run in and meet each other; at the apex of this a sheet 
of sand, as pure as that on the seashore, with a slope of 
about 40°, forms the face of a hill to its summit, which 
is about 400 feet high. When this sand is set in motion 
by a body of people, who slide down it, a sound is emitted. 
On the first trial we distinctly heard two loud, hollow 
sounds such as would be given by a large drum. On 
two subsequent attempts we heard nothing, so that per- 
haps the sand requires to be for a time settled before 
the curiosity is displayed. There is an echo in this place, 
and the inhabitants have a belief that the sounds are 
only heard on Friday, when the Saint of Reg-Ruwan, 




[323 



THE SINGING SANDS 325 

who is interred hard by, permits ! The locality of the 
sand is remarkable, there being none other in the neigh- 
bourhood. Reg-Ruwan faces the south, but the wind of 
Purwan (bad-i-Purwan) blows from the north for the 
greater part of the year, and has probably deposited 
it by an eddy. Such is the violence of this wind that 
all the trees in the neighbourhood bend to the south, 
and a field, after a few years, requires to be recleared of 
the pebbles and stones which the loss of soil lays bare. 
The mountains here are generally composed of granite 
or mica, but at Reg-Ruwan we had sandstone, lime, 
slate and quartz. . . . Reg-Ruwan is seen from a great 
distance, and the situation of the sand is so curious 
that it might almost be imagined the hill had been 
cut in two, and that it had gushed forth as from a 
sand-bag, though the wind could not have brought it 
together.^ 

Lieutenant John Wood's account closely fol- 
lows that of Burnes, and he and his companion, 
Dr. P. B. Lord, appear to have visited the spot 
in the same month (October 1837), though not, it 
would seem, as members of the same party as 
Burnes. We read in Wood's book: 

At the supper end of Koh Daman, on its eastern side, 
the face of the hills, at one particular spot, is covered 
with fine sand, called Reig-Rawan, or the Moving Sand. 
To this the natives of the valley ascribe the utterance 
of strange unearthly sounds, and by their marvellous 
relations induced us to visit the spot. The Moving Sand 
rests upon a base of 100 yards wide, and stretches up the 

1 Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal^ April 1838, p. 324-5. 



326 TALES OF TRAVEL 

face of the rock for 250 yards, with an acclivity of abouK 
45 . At 3 P.M. the temperature of the sand on the surface 
was 103°, while at the depth of 10 inches it was only 75°. 
Looking down from the top of this sandy, inclined plain, 
it is seen to lie in a hollow of the rock fronting west- 
south-west. The formation of the adjoining rocks are 
limestone, and a loose, conglomerate sandstone. The first 
is both fractured and calcined, and the same appearance 
is observed at other places along the side of the valley, 
but is always local: that bordering the Moving Sand 
is strictly so. From Reig-Rawan there is no other sand 
deposit visible, though further south, and on the east 
side of the valley, there are one or two smaller strips, 
but which are not asserted to be vocal. The west side of 
Koh Daman is composed of granite, and the prevailing 
wind is from the north, but no sand is likely to come 
from either of these directions. From the known pro- 
pensity of the ignorant to exaggerate everything con- 
nected with supposed supernatural agency, we did not 
come to the place very confident believers in the current 
tales of Reig-Rawan. However, we did as we were 
directed, and sent six men to the top of the sandy strip 
while we took up a position in the most favourable place 
to hear any noise that might be emitted. The party 
above came trampling down, and continued their march 
to the foot of the inclined plain; but without eliciting 
the slightest sound. This was repeated again and again, 
but only once with any success. The sound then heard 
was like that of a distant drum, mellowed by softer 
music. The secret of Reig-Rawan is, I should imagine, 
that of the Whispering Gallery. The slightest indenta- 
tion in the sand is immediately filled up by the fall of 
the particles above. Moving waves are thus produced 
by the heavy tramp of a descending party; and the 



THE SINGING SANDS 327 

rustle of the dry sand is condensed and reverberated by 
the circular conformation of the rocks around/ 

Wood's companion, the Doctor, was more brief: 

On our way back through the plain of Koh-i-Daman 
we paid a visit to Reg-rowan (the Flowing Sand) which 
has long been an object of wonder and veneration to the 
natives. It is simply a bed of loose sand on the slope 
of the hill, which, if set in motion by any cause, as by 
the wind or a man, rolling down from the top, produces 
lengthened sonorous vibrations not unlike those of the 
string of a bass viol.^ 

Wood, in the passage above quoted, referred also 
to the gardens of Istalif — the favourite holiday 
haunt of the Emperor Baber, who wrote of it: 
" A large river runs through it, and on either side 
are gardens, green, gay and beautiful," and to the 
Pan j shir River in the same neighbourhood; and 
I have little doubt that here or hereabouts we have 
the original of Odoric's " River of Delights "; for 
the mountain sides and valleys at this spot have 
always admittedly been the beauty spots of 
Afghanistan. 

But to return to the Sounding Sands. Wood's 
explanation, as we have seen, is that the sounds 
were produced by the movement of particles of 
sand, disturbed either by the trampling of feet, or 
by some other artificial cause, and rustling as they 
fell. To this I shall revert later. 

1 Captain J. V/ood, A Journey to the Source of the River Oxus, pp. 
114-15. London, 1872. 

2 J. A. S. B., June 1838, p. 537. 



328 TALES OF TRAVEL 

When I was at Kabul in 1894 I would have 
sought the Amir's permission to visit the Reg-i- 
Ruwan, had it been earlier in the year. As it was, 
I asked him about it. He, was not in the least at 
a loss for a reply, which was of a severely ration- 
alistic character, and was marked by his usual 
contempt for the behefs or fears of his own peo- 
ple. I was the first person, he said, who had ever 
asked him a question about the Reg-i-Ruwan, 
and, having made a special study of the subject, 
he would therefore gladly explain it to me. 

" The sand had nothing to do with the sound. 
The people in the neighbourhood and even at 
Kabul all believed that the sounds were of super- 
natural origin, and that within an adjoining cave 
in the mountains horsemen were shoeing their 
horses and beating their drums; and that from 
this recess a new prophet would presently come 
forth to restore the true faith throughout the 
world and annihilate the infidel.^ But this was 
not at all the case, and the explanation of the 
sound, which he had heard himself, was quite dif- 
ferent. There was a shelving face of rock, which 
was so covered with sand as to constitute a steep 
sand slope. About half-way down this slope there 
was an orifice or cavern in the rock, running un- 
derground for a long distance. On the left side 
of the slope, at a little distance, were some more 
high rocks, in which there were similar cavities, at 
a place called Parwan.^ It was only when the 

1 This is identical with Masson's story. 

2 Masson also mentions the caves at Purwan, vol. iii., p. 166. 



THE SINGING SANDS 329 

wind was blowing from the latter orifices, and 
impinged upon the mouth of the orifice in Reg-i- 
Ruwan, that then, being whirled round and round 
in the mouth and interior of the cave, it produced 
the humming sound which had been mistaken 
for drums and trumpets. When blowing from 
Parwan the wind made a whistling sound; but 
when it entered the hole in Reg-i-Ruwan then it 
hummed. From a distance of ten miles he had 
first discovered this explanation with a telescope! 
Then he had been up to the place and had posted 
men to wait and see. They reported that only 
when the wind blew from that quarter was the 
sound heard, and the greater the wind the louder 
the sound. But if there was no wind there was 
no sound heard at all." 

For his own part, the Amir added, so useful was 
the sand for building, and so useless for musical 
purposes, that he was now bringing it down to 
Kabul to make bricks and mortar. 

I have had a renewed investigation made of the 
Reg-i-Ruwan in the present summer (1923) by 
the good offices of the reigning Amir of Afghan- 
istan and the British Resident at Kabul, for the 
special purposes of this volume, and I add the 
result of the investigations of the latter (Colonel 
Humphrys) in his own words. He spent the day 
of June 24th at Reg-i-Ruwan, and took the photo- 
graph which is reproduced here, and in which the 
little figures at the base of the sand-slope are men : 

The range in which the moving sand is situated is 



330 TALES OF TRAVEL 

semicircular in shape, with a concave face towards the 
south, and is an outcrop of the main Hindu Kush range, 
with which its greatest length — about half a mile — is 
parallel, running roughly east to west. It lies about 
40 miles due north of Kabul, and three-quarters of a 
mile to the north-east of the village of Khwaja Muham- 
mad. Height of base, according to the aneroid, 4950 
feet above sea-level. Average height of the reef, 600 
feet above the Pan j shir plain. Formation of range, lime- 
stone, combined with some volcanic rock. 

The Reg-i-Ruwan lies near the western extremity of 
the reef, faces due south, and is protected by the western 
wall of the semicircle from the direct impact of the 
Parawan wind, which blows with terrific force in the 
summer months from Parawan (or Jebel-us-Siraj ) , situ- 
ated some ten miles away, as the crow flies, to the north- 
west. It may be conjectured that the western extremity 
of the reef, although it breaks the direct impact of this 
wind, gives rise to an eddy which the vacuum caused 
by the air rising from the extremely hot sheet of sand 
would draw upwards and might thus carry the sand 
from the bottom towards the top. This, according to 
local gossip, is the movement by which the bulk of the 
sand-slope is maintained. The angle of the sand-slope 
was measured to be 33% degrees. Its shape is narrow- 
est at the top, broadening towards the bottom, regularity 
being impaired on the eastern side of the sand-bank by 
an outcrop of rock which has been enlarged by an artificial 
platform used on the occasion of fairs. The sand does 
not run to the top of the reef but only about two-thirds 
of the height. The vertical height from the top of sand- 
slope to the bottom was shown by the aneroid to be 
430 feet. The sand is formed of minute particles, appar- 
ently by decomposition from the surrounding rock. It 



THE SINGING SANDS 331 

is white at the top, yellow at the western side of the 
base, and streaked with black on the eastern side. A her 
tree (zizyphus jujuba), plainly visible in the photograph, 
flourishes about halfway up the sand-slope close to the 
eastern edge, and another ber tree of massive propor- 
tions stands on the platform referred to above. There 
are some smaller sand deposits at the eastern extremity 
of the reef, facing north-west, and therefore meeting the 
full force of the wind, and on the northern face of the 
range to the south-east sand deposits of some consider- 
able size could also be seen. None of these sands, how- 
ever, possess the reputation of moving. There are no 
caves in the reef itself, but in the shrine of Muhammad 
Hanifi, some 500 yards from the foot of the sand-slope, 
is an artificial shaft which, about 15 feet below the sur- 
face, branches into two smaller tunnels, one reported by 
the custodian of the shrine to lead to the moving sand 
and the other to Ghazni! Both tunnels were obstructed 
by falls of earth. Access was gained to the tomb of 
Muhammad Hanifi by means of rough stairs cut in the 
clay. Length of sand-slope from top to bottom is about 
800 feet, and greatest breadth 320 feet. 

There was practically no wind on the 24th June when 
the experiments were made. Men were sent to the top 
of the sand-slope and descended several times at varying 
speeds. As the sand became dislodged by their move- 
ments, it flowed down in parallel rectangular streams : the 
collapsing edge gradually worked upwards, and the down- 
ward flow continued for several minutes after the sand 
had been disturbed. These streams developed no lateral 
spread beyond three feet, and emitted a rustling sound 
which was faintly audible up to a distance of twenty yards. 

The sand on the surface at midday was painfully hot 
to the feet, even through a boot, but about six inches 



332 TALES OF TRAVEL 

below the surface it was saturated with moisture. The 
Afghan villagers stated that no rain had fallen in the 
locality for two months, and it seems possible that by the 
end of the summer, which is practically rainless, the sand 
grains would become incoherent to a considerable depth, 
and, according to the conjectures of former observers, 
would then be more likely to possess a sonorous quality. 
All the local people asserted that the sand produced 
a sound like the beating of drums {nagaras) on certain 
occasions. Some said that these occasions were limited 
to Fridays, but the majority stated that the phenomenon 
occurred capriciously about ten or twelve times a year 
without regard, to the season and frequently without the 
assistance of wind or other extraneous agency. They 
insisted that, if the sand was carried by the wind or 
otherwise to a distance from the slope, it invariably found 
its way back to Reg-i-Ruwan during the night. This 
was due to a special sanctity which belonged to the place. 
I was informed by the Governor of Kohistan, who met 
me on my way back to Jebel-us-Siraj , that the late Amir 
HabibuUa was very interested in the phenomenon and 
had paid seven visits to Reg-i-Ruwan but had not been 
fortunate enough to hear the music. 

Colonel Humphrys, it will be observed was un- 
successful in his experiment; but he intends to 
pay another visit to Reg-i-Ruwan later in the 
summer, when the sand may be drier, and the 
chances of success improved. I am afraid that his 
description completely disposes of the too fanciful 
explanation of my friend the Amir, for the cave, 
so far from being in the reef, is more than a 
quarter of a mile away; and the telescope of the 
Amir must have been a very astonishing instru- 



THE SINGING SANDS 333 

ment if it did not enable him to discover this fact. 
No European would appear to have visited Reg-i- 
Ruwan since 1837, but it is evident not merely 
that the tradition survives but that the sands still 
speak. 

Kalah-i'Kahj Seistan. 

Pursuing my way westwards, the next case that 
I take is that of the Moving and Musical Sand- 
hill at Kalah-i-Kah in Afghan Seistan, which is 
also called Reg-i-Ruwan. This place was well 
known to the Arab geographers from early times. 
Mukadessi, at the end of the tenth century, said 
of it: 

If water or any small object were thrown on the sand 
of this hillock, a great noise was heard like a humming 
sound, and very terrible to listen to.^ 

In the next century Biruni wrote: 

Further, there is a mountain between Herat and 
Sijistan, in a sandy country, somewhat distant from the 
road, where you hear a clear murmur and a deep sound 
as soon as it is defiled by human excrements or urine.^ 

These rather unsavoury details of course meant 
no more than that the music was heard if a move- 
ment were communicated to the sand-grains by 
any form of human agency. 

1 Descriptio imperii Moslemici. 

2 Chronology of Ancient Nations, p. 235. Translation by Sachaus. 
London, 1879. 



334 TALES OF TRAVEL 

By far the fullest account of this phenomenon 
is, however, that which appeared in the records of 
Sir Frederic Goldsmid's Mission to settle the 
boundary between Persian and Afghan Seistan in 
1870-1872. It was in March 1872 that the Mis- 
sion found itself at Kalah-i-Kah, five miles from 
which in the direction of the Harut Rud stands 
the famous ziarat^ or shrine, of Imam Zaid. The 
account of this part of the Mission's work was 
written by Major (afterwards Sir C.) Euan 
Smith; but the member of the Mission who heard 
the music was neither the writer, nor his chief, but 
Captain Beresford Lovett, R.E. The place and 
the sound are thus described:^ 

This ^iarat which is called the Rig-i-Rawan, or Moving 
Sand, is most remarkable and singular. At the extreme 
west of the range of hills which has been described as 
lying in a straight line due north of the Kala'h-i-Kah 
district, is a hUl some 600 feet high and half a mile long. 
The southern face of this hill to the very summit is cov- 
ered with a drift of fine and very deep sand — ^which has 
evidently been there for ages, as testified by the number 
of large plants growing on its surface. None of the 
adjacent hills have any trace whatever of sand-drift, and 
the surface of the surrounding desert is hard and pebbly. 
The westernmost portion of this elevated ground contains 
the ziarat, and the natives say, and with reason and truth, 
that at times the hill gives out a strange startling noise, 
which they compare to the rolling of drums. Captain 
Lovett, who was fortunate enough to hear it, describes 

1 Eastern Persia, edited by Sir F. Goldsmid, vol. i., p. 327. Lon- 
don, 2 vols., 1876. 



THE SINGING SANDS 335 

its effect upon him as like the wailing of an iEolian harp, 
»or the sound occasioned by the vibration of several tele- 
graph wires — very fine at first, but increasing every 
moment in volume and intensity; and the secret strain 
is said sometimes to last as long as an hour at a time. 
The face of the hill is concave, its cavity is filled with the 
sand, and underneath there appears to be a hard lime- 
stone surface. It would be useless after a summary in- 
spection to hazard an opinion as to the cause of the 
remarkable sounds that proceed from the hill — ^but it is 
noticeable that they may be produced by any large num- 
ber of men, at the top, putting the sand in motion. It 
should be remarked at the same time that the noise is 
often heard in perfectly still weather, and when nobody 
is near the hill; and it is singular also that the limit of 
the sand at the bottom seems never to be encroached 
upon by falling sand from the summit, though the face 
of the hill and sand-drift is very steep. On watching the 
sand this morning at the time he heard the sound, Captain 
Lovett observed that its vibrations and the movements 
of the pilgrims who had gone to the summit of the drift, 
occurred at the same moment. The natives, of course, 
ascribe miraculous properties to the hill. It is believed 
to be the grave of the Imam Zaid, the grandson of Husain, 
the son of Ali. Tradition says that being pursued by 
his enemies, he came to this hill for refuge, was covered 
one night by the miraculous sand-drift, and has never been 
seen again. They say that the sand, thus miraculously 
brought by heavenly aid, could be removed by no earthly 
power, and that were any one impious enough to try it, 
the sand would return of its own accord. They believe 
the hill, like the ancient oracles, to give out warning 
when anything important is going to happen in the dis- 
trict. Thus, in the time when the Turkmans used to 



336 TALES OF TRAVEL 

make their forays as far south as this, the hill always 
gave warning the night before their arrival; and we are 
assured that the arrival of our Mission was heralded by 
the same sounds. The head of the district told us that 
the noise could be heard in still weather at a distance 
of ten miles; and Sayid Nur Muhammad Shah declares 
he heard it distinctly last night at our camp five miles off. 
Shia'hs and Sunnis alike, unable to contend against the 
evidence of their ears, come to worship at this miraculous 
spot, and here find a common ground on which they can 
meet in amity. Obese Muhammadans do not generally 
subject themselves to so severe a trial of faith as that 
of visiting this particular Ziarat-gah. It is a very steep 
climb for them to the commencement of the band of sand, 
about 200 feet broad and nearly perpendicular; and as 
they sink up to the thighs in this at every step, often 
must they regret that the Imam could not have hid him- 
self in a more accessible spot. The tomb is situated at 
the top of the sand ridge, and it is in their descent that 
the faithful are generally rewarded for the trouble they 
have voluntarily undergone by hearing the miraculous 
noise. Sardar Ahmad Khan, all his attendants, and a 
great number of stalwart Afghans, went up the hill, and 
we observed that they were more than half-an-hour get- 
ting across the sand ; our more eff^eminate Tehran servants 
did not seem to care to make the attempt. The base 
of the hill is surrounded by graves of the faithful, who, 
it is to be hoped, are not disturbed in their last sleep by 
the unearthly warnings of the object of their devotion. 
It is probable, after all, that science could give a very 
simple explanation of the phenomena; but he would be 
a bold man who tried to explain the same by natural 
causes within a hundred miles of its influence. 



THE SINGING SANDS 337 

Dr. H. W. Belle w, who was a member of the 
party, also heard the music: 

The sand fills a wide concavity on the southern slope 
of a base rocky ridge detached from the Cala Koh range, 
and forms an isolated mass, as remarkable from its posi- 
tion as from the sounds it emits when set in motion. As 
we passed on, our late companions on the march toilfuUy 
plodded their way up the sandy slope and the summit 
of the hill. Their steps set the loose particles of sand 
in motion, and their friction by some mysterious acoustic 
arrangement produced a sound as of distant drums and 
music, which we heard distinctly at the distance of a mile. 
The sounds were not continuous, but were only now and 
again caught by the ear and much resembled those pro- 
duced by the ^olian harp or the wind playing on tele- 
graph wires. These sounds are often emitted by the 
action of the wind on the surface of the sand and at other 
times without any assignable cause/ 

Jehel Nahus, Sinai, 

I now come to the particular phenomenon 
which, owing to the greater accessibility and to 
the fact that it has been visited and described by 
a number of European travellers, has won the 
widest reputation, and is commonly referred to 
by geographers as the classical case of a musical 
sand-hill. This is the Jebel Nakus,^ or Hill of 

1 H. W. Bellew, From the Indus to the Tigris, p. 285. London, 1874. 

2 Nakus is not a " bell " in our sense of the word. It is the wooden 
board suspended horizontally which is struck by a hammer in Eastern 
monasteries to summon the monks to prayer. In the Greek monas- 
teries, where it is still employed, it is called " semandron." 



338 TALES OF TRAVEL 

the Bell or Gong, in the Peninsula of Sinai on the 
eastern shore of the Red Sea. The following is, 
to the best of my knowledge, a complete list of 
those who have left descriptions of it: Dr. U. J. 
Seetzen, November 1810; J. Gray (of Oxford), 
1818; H. Ehrenberg, 1823; Dr. Edward Ruppell, 
1827; Lieutenant T. R. Wellsted, January 1830; 
Lieutenant Newbold, C. Shute, June 1840; Capt. 
H. C. Butler, Rev. Pierce Butler, 1841; Professor 
H. A. Ward, 1855; Professor E. H. Palmer, Rev. 
F. W. Holland, Captain Wilson, Captain Palmer, 
J. Wyatt, February 1869; Dr. H. C. Bolton, 1889. 
Dr. Seetzen, the first European traveller to 
arrive upon the scene, said that he found the mu- 
sical mountain composed of a white friable sand- 
stone, presenting on two of its sides sandy declivi- 
ties. He watched beside it for an hour and a 
quarter, and then heard for the first time a low 
undulating sound somewhat resembling that of a 
humming-top, which rose and fell, and ceased and 
began, and then ceased again; and in an hour and 
three-quarters after, when, in the act of climbing 
along the declivity, he heard the sound get louder 
and more prolonged. It seemed as if issuing from 
under his knees, beneath which the sand, dis- 
turbed by his efforts, was sliding downwards along 
the surface of the rock. Concluding that the slid- 
ing sand was the cause of the sounds, not an effect 
of the vibrations which they occasioned, he climbed 
to the top of one of the declivities, and, sliding 
down, exerted himself with hands and feet to set 
the sand in motion. The effect produced far ex- 




[339 



THE SINGING SANDS 341 

ceeded his expectations; the incoherent sand rolled 
under and around in a vast sheet; and so loud 
was the noise produced that the earth seemed to 
tremble beneath him to such an extent that he 
would certainly have been afraid if he had been 
ignorant of the cause. 

Seetzen further compared the moving layer of 
sand to a great violin bow thrown into tuneful 
vibrations/ 

Our sole English visitor in the first quarter of 
the nineteenth century, J. Gray of University 
College, Oxford, described the noise of the Mu- 
sical Sands, which he heard more than once, as 
" beginning with a low continuous murmuring 
sound, which seemed to rise beneath his feet, but 
gradually changed into pulsations as it became 
louder, so as to resemble the striking of a clock, 
and became so strong at the end of five minutes 
as to detach the sand. On returning to the spot 
next day, he heard the sound still louder than 
before. He could not observe any crevices by 
which the external air could penetrate ; and as the 
sky was serene and the air calm, he was satisfied 
that the sound could not arise from this cause. ^ 

Ehrenberg, in 1823, also climbed the mountain, 
and at every step heard a small strengthening of 
the tone which swelled in volume with the increase 
of the amount of sand in motion, and at length 
became as strong as the distant thunder of cannon. 

1 " Aus einen Schreiben des Dr. Seetzen," Monatl. Corresp., p. 396. 
Gotha, October 1812. 

2 Edinburgh Journal of Science, No. XI., p. 153, No. XIII., p. 51. 



342 TALES OF TRAVEL 

He explained the vastness of the final effect as 
due to the piling up of small effects, as in the case 
of an avalanche: 



The sand-bed, which is about 150 feet high and about 
equally broad at its base, rises at an angle of 50 degrees, 
and thus rests rather on itself than on the rock, which 
gives it but slight support. The sand is coarse-grained 
and composed of very clean, even-sized grains of quartz 
from one-sixth to one-half a line in diameter. The great 
heat dries the sand by day to a certain depth (whilst it is 
moistened throughout by dew each night and makes it 
equally dry and resonant. If, then, an empty space is 
formed in the sand by the sinking of a man's foot into it, 
the whole layer situated above this point loses its support 
and begins slowly to move throughout its whole length. 
By the flowing in of the sand from the sides and the 
repeated tread [of the traveller] a large part of the whole 
sand-layer of the slope at last acquires motion, and by 
its friction against the motionless under-layer produces 
a noise, which from a humming becomes a murmur, and 
in the end passes into a roar, and is all the more surprising 
in that one sees but little of the trickling and general 
movement of the sand-layer. With the cessation of the 
disturbance the sliding also gradually subsides as soon 
as the gaps are again filled and the sand-columns gain a 
more stable basis and a state of equilibrium is reproduced. 

Another German, Dr. Ruppell, who visited 
Jebel Nakus in 1827, and described it as a sand- 
stone slope 200 feet high, heaped up when the 
north wind blows at an angle of 50 degrees, has 
left an account of his visit, but does not say that 



THE SINGING SANDS 343 

he heard the music, though he adds that it is when 
the west wind blows that it is audible."^ 

The first full description from an English 
source is, however, that of Lieutenant J. N. 
Wellsted, of the Indian Navy, who was despatched 
by the Bombay Government in 1829 in the ship 
Palinurus to conduct a survey of the Red Sea. 
He and his companions several times visited Jebel 
Nakus, and he thus recorded his experience in 
January, 1830,^ together with a lithographic illus- 
tration, which a later American visitor regarded 
as somewhat deficient in accuracy: 

Considerable attention has also of late years been 
directed towards the phenomenon connected with this re- 
markable spot, though the accounts hitherto furnished 
by travellers are neither so full nor so satisfactory as 
could be wished. It forms one of a ridge of low cal- 
careous hills, at a distance of 3% miles from the beach, 
to which a sandy plain, extending with a gentle rise to 
the base, connects them. Its height, about 400 feet, as 
well as the material of which it is composed — a light- 
coloured friable sandstone — is about the same as the rest 
of the chain; but an inclined plane of almost impalpable 
sand rises at an angle of 40 degrees with the horizon, 
and is bounded by a semi-circle of rocks presenting broken, 
abrupt and pinnacled forms, and extending to the base of 
this remarkable hill. Although their shape and arrange- 
ment in some respects may be said to resemble a whisper- 
ing gallery, yet I determined by experiment that their 
irregular surface renders them but ill-adapted for the 

1 Der Tonende Berg Nakus in Reisen nach Nuhien. Frankfurt, 1829, 

2 Travels in Arabia, vol. ii., pp. 23-27, London, 1838. 



844 TALES OF TRAVEL 

production of an echo. Seated on a rock at the base of 
the sloping eminence, I directed one of the Bedouins to 
ascend, and it was not until he had reached some distance 
that I perceived the sand in motion, rolling down the hill 
to the depth of a foot. It did not, however, descend in 
one continued stream, but, as the Arab scrambled up- 
wards, it spread out laterally and upwards until a con- 
siderable portion of the surface was in motion. At their 
commencement the sounds might be compared to the faint 
strains of an JEolian harp when its strings first catch 
the breeze; as the sand became more violently agitated, 
by the increased velocity of the descent, the noise more 
nearly resembled that produced by drawing the moistened 
fingers over glass. As it reached the base the reverbera- 
tions attained the loudness of distant thunder, causing 
the rock on which we were seated to vibrate; and our 
camels, animals not easily frightened, became so alarmed 
that it was with difficulty their drivers could retain them. 

It is particularly worthy of remark that the noise did 
not issue from every part of the hill alike, the loudest 
being produced by disturbing the sand on the northern 
side about twenty feet from the base, and about ten from 
the rocks which bound it in that direction. The sounds 
sometimes fell quicker on the ear, at other times were 
more prolonged; but this swelling or sinking appeared 
to depend upon the Arab's increasing or retarding the 
velocity of his descent. On a spot so desert and solitary 
they have an inconceivably melancholy effect, and the 
Bedouins trace them to several wild and fanciful causes; 
the tradition given by Burckhardt, that the bells belong- 
ing to the convent have been buried here, has often been 
repeated to me. 

When I visited the Jebel Narkous on two other occa- 
sions the results were much less satisfactory. The first 



THE SINGING SANDS 345 

time the sounds were barely audible, and rain having 
fallen a short time previous to my second visit, the sur- 
face of the sand was so consolidated by the moisture that 
they could not be produced at all. I therefore attribute 
the complete gratification of my curiosity in this instance 
to the sand being perfectly dry, and consequently larger 
quantities rolling down the hill. That the explanation 
of this phenomenon is intimately connected with the agi- 
tation thus produced can admit of no doubt; but the 
precise causes which lead to these results it seems difficult 
to explain. It may be broadly stated that the particles 
of sand, when in motion, roll over a harder bed, and 
meet in their progress the wind then blowing directly on 
the face of the hill at a certain angle. I should mention 
that the same sounds are produced when the wind is 
sufficiently high to set the sand in motion; but I reject, 
without hesitation, the generally received opinion that the 
effects I have described are originated by this sand falling 
into cavities. Sounds thus produced would be dull and 
wholly deficient in the vibrations which I have noticed." 

Ten years later, another British officer. Lieu- 
tenant Newbold, of the Madras Army, appeared 
upon the scene, and gave an even more ample 
account of his successful experience : ^ 

Ten minutes' walk over sand and stones brought us 
to the base of Gebel Nakus. The apparent height is from 
350 to 400 feet. On the western side, which faces towards 
the Red Sea, is a steep slope of a triangular form extend- 
ing about 80 feet up the side of the hill, narrow at the 



1 " Visit to Gebel Naktis, or the Mountain of the Bell, in the 
Peninsula of Sinai, on June 10, 1840," Journal of the Royal Asiatio 
Society of Great Britain and Ireland, vol. vii., p. 79, 1843. 



346 TALES OF TRAVEL 

top, but widening out as it approaches the bottom. This 
slope is bounded by low cliffs of sandstone on all sides 
except the base, and covered with a very fine quartzy 
sand of a light reddish-brown colour. The sand varies 
in depth from a few inches to five or six feet, according 
to the irregularity of the sandstone rocks which lie be- 
neath it. It has evidently been conveyed to its present 
position, on the slope of the rock, by the strong prevail- 
ing westerly winds. Our Bedouin guide instantly pointed 
to t»his sandy slope as the spot whence issue forth those 
mysterious Memnonian sounds, to which the mountain 
owes its appellation, and which the superstitious Arabs, 
as noticed by Burckhardt, believe to be produced by the 
bells of a subterraneous convent. 

We strained our ears to catch a sound, but in vain; 
a deep silence, hardly broken by the faint murmurings 
of the wind, reigned over the singularly dreary and arid 
wastes around. The Bedouin, having desired us to wait 
at a rock at the foot of the slope, commenced its ascent, 
sinking knee-deep in the loose sand that covered it. Pres- 
ently we heard a faint musical sound resembling the deeper 
chords of a violoncello at a distance, prolonged, and 
lightly touched. The Bedouin now descended, and, on 
my expressing some disappointment at the result, re- 
marked with much phlegm, that the day was not pro- 
pitious; but that, if we would come on the Jwma, or 
Muhammedan Sabbath, we should hear the mountain 
strains to much greater advantage. My friend, Mr. 
Shute, of the Inniskillings, and myself, having now ob- 
tained some clue to the cause of the sounds, determined 
to put the guide's veracity to the test, and accordingly 
commenced the ascent, which we found fatiguing, from 
the depth and extreme fineness of the sand, and from 
the intense heat of the sun. Having reached the top, 



THE SINGING SANDS 347 

I seated myself at the base of the mural cliffs which crest 
the summit, and watched the course of the sand we had 
set in motion, as it passed downwards in undulating and 
gradually widening lines to the base. The particles of 
sand displaced in the lower part of the slope disturbed 
those immediately above and below them; and, more 
slightly, those on their sides ; so that the disturbance 
of the upper layers of sand went on increasing on every 
side, somewhat resembling the effect produced on the sur- 
face of still water by dropping a stone into it. 

About two minutes after the sand had been first set 
in motion, a faint rustling sound, as it rolled down, struck 
our ears; then the low, deep, distant, musical tone we 
had first heard, which generally became more and more 
distinct, and apparently nearer, in successive and fast 
repeated notes, whose sound partook of those of a deep 
mellow church or convent bell, and the vibrations of a 
stringed instrument. On again disturbing the sand near 
the summit with my feet, the sounds took up a more 
treble and prolonged tone, resembling the wild strains 
of an ^olian harp, but gradually becoming deeper and 
louder, until at length they rivalled the continued rum- 
bling of distant thunder, and fairly caused the sand on 
which I sat to tremble in distinct vibrations. This in- 
tensity of sound was produced a short interval after the 
whole surface of the sand had been set in motion from 
the summit to the base. The sensations imparted by 
the vibrations were most extraordinary; I can only com- 
pare them with those likely to be experienced by a person 
seated on the body of some enormous stringed instrument 
while a bow is slowly drawn over its chords. The great- 
est effect was produced by traversing the sand from right 
to left, and vice versa. 

I descended to the base during the greatest intensity 



348 TALES OF TRAVEL 

of the sounds, and awaited in silence their cessation, which 
took place with that of the motion of the sand, at the 
expiration of about a quarter of an hour. 

Travellers have frequently attempted the explanation 
of this curious phenomenon. Some are of opinion that 
the sounds are caused by the sand's motion over hollow 
rocks ; others imagine them to proceed from the sand fall- 
ing into cavities ; some, again, suppose them to have their 
origin in subterranean volcanoes ; and a few have thought 
that similar sounds may be produced by the action of 
the wind on the thin elastic plates of mica which abound 
in granite and gneiss. The notion of the Arabs, that the 
sounds are those of the bells of a subterraneous convent, 
has doubtless been derived from the idle tales of the 
monks of Mount Sinai, who declared to me that they had 
never been heard until after the destruction of one of 
their convents near Tor, and the death of the Forty 
Martyrs. 

With regard to the first and third of these opinions, 
I can only observe that on a careful examination of the 
rocks over which the sand rolled, they proved to be of a 
massive whitish sandstone or grit, of a granular texture, 
imbedding pebbles of quartz, and entirely free from cav- 
erns, or holes of any magnitude. No volcanic rocks, nor 
traces of extinct volcanoes, were found in the vicinity. 
Erratic fragments of porphyry, granite, greenstone and 
melaphyre, evidently transported from the lofty ranges 
of Sinai in the interior, occurred strewed on the surface 
of the desert not far distant. Were the sounds volcanic, 
they would be absolutely independent of the motion of 
the sand, which I shall have occasion to notice as an 
indispensable condition to their production. The idea 
of their being caused by sand falling into the cavities of 
the rocks appears to me to be nearly as satisfactory as 



THE SINGING SANDS 349 

the tale of the subterraneous bells. Sand in falling pro- 
duces nothing beyond a dull, rustling noise, as may be 
readily proved by experiment. With regard to the hy- 
pothesis of wind acting on the thin and elastic plates 
of mica, I may remark that I could not detect a single 
plate of this mineral in the rocks of the locality, which 
were all of a sandy and calcareous character. I am not, 
however, prepared to deny the possibility of sounds being 
produced, under certain conditions, in the crevices of 
rocks of granite, gneiss, etc., which abound in mica. 

My own ideas as to the cause of the phenomenon of 
the Mountain of the Bell coincide in a great measure 
with those of Lieutenant Wellsted, who has expressed 
his opinion that its explanation is intimately connected 
with the agitation of the sand. The inclination of the 
slope, down which the sand falls, is nearly that at which 
sand lies when poured down in a heap. It rolls down 
this slope, after having been disturbed, in a westerly 
direction; th^e surface of the subjacent sandstone rocks 
is uneven and step-like. In falling, the sand collects into 
waves, about an inch or two inches high, resembling those 
of a thick liquid flowing slowly down an inclined plane. 
These waves widen out as they approach the base of the 
slope, and acted upon by the wind, which was at the time 
of my visit blowing pretty strongly from the north-west, 
nearly at an angle of 45° with the course of the sand, 
form into festoon-like curves. The sounds produced on 
first disturbing the sand near the summit of the plane 
were, as before remarked, of a treble nature; but gradu- 
ally deepened, and became graver and louder, as the 
undulations lengthened on their way downwards to the 
base; apparently on the principle of the difference of 
sounds produced by the strings, of different lengths, of a 
musical instrument. 



350 TALES OF TRAVEL 

This effect was increased by the peculiar shape of the 
plane down which the sand glided, which, from circum- 
stances of its being narrow at top and broad at the base, 
admitted of the gradual extension or widening of the 
waves of sand ; or, if I may so express myself, the length- 
ening of the strings, and the consequent deepening of the 
strains, of this great natural ^olian harp. 

That the sounds are caused principally by the motion 
of the sand is further proved by the perfect stillness of 
the locality, so long as the sand remains undisturbed; 
by the gradual increase, diminution and cessation of the 
sounds with those of the motion of the sand, and by their 
being inaudible in wet weather, when the surface is con- 
solidated, as observed by Lieutenant Wellsted. That the 
action and direction of the wind is a favourable, if not 
a necessary, condition, is proved by the sounds being 
faint, according to the testimony of my Bedouin, in calm 
weather, and sometimes inaudible; such was probably the 
case on the occasion of Lieutenant Wellsted's first un- 
successful visit. Further information, however, is de- 
sirable on these points; and it would be interesting to 
visit the locality during the prevalence of an easterly wind. 
I hardly need remark that the north-west winds blow 
with so much violence occasionally as to disturb the sand, 
and thus produce the sounds without the aid of man. 
It would also be useful to take careful relative measure- 
ments of the locality, to ascertain the force and direc- 
tion of the wind most favourable for producing the sounds, 
with a view of constructing a model on a small scale, 
from which similar effects might probably be produced 
artificially, and the curious question regarding the pos- 
sibility of moving lines of loose sand producing, under 
any circumstances, musical sounds, decided beyond the 
shadow of a doubt. It is not a little singular that Gebel 



THE SINGING SANDS 351 

Nakus should be, as far as I am aware, the only known 
spot on the globe where the necessary conditions exist 
for producing those remarkable sounds,^ although I have 
seen several localities in Arabia, Egypt and Spain where 
loose sand has been accumulated on the sides of rocks 
in an apparently similar manner. But it must be re- 
marked at the same time that opportunity did not admit 
of a careful comparative examination of these localities. 

I have not met with the account of the visit to 
Jebel Nakus of Professor H. A. Ward in 1855. 
But the well-known narrative of the expedition of 
Professor E. H. Palmer to determine the disputed 
sites of Exodus in the Desert of Sinai contains a 
full description of his visit to Jebel Nakus in 
February 1869.' 

It is situated at about three-quarters of a mile from 
the sea-coast, and forms the north-western extremity of 
the range of hills which we had just crossed to our camp 
at Abu Suweirah, The mountain itself is composed of 
white friable sandstone, and filling a large gully in the 
side facing west-south-west, is a slope of fine drift sand 
about 380 feet in height, 80 yards wide at the base, and 
tapering towards the top, where it branches off into three 
or four narrow gullies. The sand lies at so high an angle 
to the horizon, nearly 30 , and is so fine and dry as to 
be easily set in motion from any point in the slope, or 
even by scraping away a portion from its base. When 
this is done the sand rolls down with a sluggish viscous 
motion, and it is then that the sound begins, at first a low 
vibratory moan, but gradually swelling out into a roar 

1 He was of course mistaken. 

2 The Desert of the Exodus, part I, pp. 217-221. Cambridge, 1871. 



352 TALES OF TRAVEL 

like thunder, and as gradually. dying away again until the 
sand has ceased to roll. To me the sound seemed more 
like that caused by air entering the mouth of a large metal 
vessel, and I could produce an imitation of it on a small 
scale by turning my flask at a certain angle to the wind. 
We found that the heated surface was much more sensi- 
tive to sound than the cooler layers beneath, and that 
those parts of the slope which had lain long undisturbed, 
produced a much louder and more lasting sound than 
those which had recently been set in motion, thus show- 
ing that the phenomenon is purely local and superficial, 
and due in some manner to the combined eff^ects of heat 
and friction. A faint sound could also be produced by 
sweeping portions of the sand rapidly forward with the 
arm; and this caused such a peculiar tingling sensation 
in the operator's arm as to suggest that some electrical 
influence was also at work. When a large quantity of 
the sand was set in motion and the sound was at its height 
a powerful vibration was felt, and straws stuck into the 
sand trembled visibly although there was not a breath of 
wind to disturb them. The sand on the upper part of 
the slope where it branches off into the gullies above 
mentioned is coarser and more adulterated with extrane- 
ous particles, detritus from the overhanging rocks, and 
pieces of seaweed blown up from the shore; it is con- 
sequently less easily set in motion, and we found it to 
be much less sensitive to sound. The inclination of the 
slope is the " angle of rest " of the sand in its normal 
state; but excessive heat or drought, wind, animals run- 
ning over the slope, falling rocks, and many other acci- 
dents might act as disturbing causes ; in any of these 
cases the sound would occur, and its spontaneous pro- 
duction, which has caused so much speculation, may be 
therefore easily accounted for. Besides the large slide 



THE SINGING SANDS 353 

there is a narrow slope to the north; and part of this, 
being in shade the whole day long during the winter 
months, afforded us an opportunity of determining the 
comparative sensitiveness of the heated and cool sand. 
We found that the sand on the cool, shaded portion, at a 
temperature of 62 produced but a very faint sound 
when set in motion; while that on the more exposed 
parts, at a temperature of 103 gave forth a loud and 
often even startling noise. Other sand-slopes in the 
vicinity were also experimented upon, but these, which 
were composed of coarser grains and inclined at a lower 
angle, produced no acoustic phenomena whatever. The 
Arabs declare that the sounds are only heard on Fridays 
and Sundays, and tell the following legend respecting 
their origin : 

An Arab whose people were encamped by the palm- 
grove of Abu Suweirah, happened to stroll alone by the 
sea-shore, and coming to the spot in question, which he 
had hitherto believed to be barren and uninhabited, he 
was surprised to find a small monastery and a pleasant 
garden on the mountain side. The brethren received him 
courteously, and invited him to partake of their meal, 
to which, being hungry and fatigued, he gladly consented. 
Having shared their hospitality, he prepared to depart, 
but first, at the instance of his hosts, he took a solemn 
oath that he would never reveal to any living soul the 
secret of their retreat or of his own meeting with them. 
He was accompanied for a portion of his way home by 
two of the monks, who reiterated their injunctions of 
secrecy and took their leave. The Arab, however, 
prompted either by curiosity or baser motives, took the 
opportunity of dropping the stones of some dates which 
he had eaten, in order that he might have a clue by which 
to find the place again; and on reaching the tents of his 



354 TALES OF TRAVEL 

tribe he at once related his adventure, regardless alike 
of his oath and of the sacred laws of hospitality. His 
people refused to credit his account until he offered to 
conduct them himself to the place ; but, when he attempted 
to do this, he found that all the date-stones had been 
removed. He did, however, succeed in identifying the 
mountain, but the monastery, gardens, and monks had 
all disappeared, and nothing remained to show that they 
had ever existed save the sound of the ndgus calling them 
to prayers within their mysterious retreat in the very 
heart of the mountain. The Arab who had thus disre- 
garded the sacred obligations of bread and salt, not only 
forfeited the esteem of his own people, but misfortune 
after misfortune overtook him until he perished miserably, 
an outcast from his fellow-men. 

I have quoted Professor Palmer's description of 
Jebel Nakus at length, because, if reference to it 
is desired, this will be easily accessible to any 
reader. But a nearly identical, though more 
purely scientific, account was given by Captain 
H. S. Palmer, R.E., in the official publication, 
entitled Ordnance Survey of the Peninsula of 
Sinai, which had been brought out by H.M. Gov- 
ernment two years earlier, in 1869. The descrip- 
tion of the sounds, as heard by the party, is even 
more precise (pp. 131-134) : 

The sound is difficult to describe exactly; it is not 
metallic, nor like that of a bell, nor yet that of a ndgus. 
Perhaps the very hoarsest note of an ^olian harp, or the 
sound produced by rubbing the finger round the wet rim 
of a deep-toned finger-glass, most closely resembles it, 



THE SINGING SANDS 355 

save that there is less music in the sound of this rolling 
sand. It may also be likened to the noise produced by 
air rushing into the mouth of an empty flask or bottle; 
sometimes it almost approaches the roar of very distant 
thunder, and sometimes it resembles the deeper notes of a 
violoncello, or the hum of a humming-top. 

Captain Palmer went on to say: 

The motion may be produced by design in various ways 
— ^by scraping away •a portion at the foot of the slope; 
by walking directly or slantwise up it ; or, which is the 
most effectual method, by ascending the cliffs at its side, 
and then scrambling rapidly along the whole face of the 
upper part of the slope, or slipping down and displacing 
the sand with one's hands and feet. The sand thus set 
in motion from any high point rolls slowly down over 
the surface in thin waves an inch or two deep, just as 
oil or any thick liquid might roll over an inclined sheet 
of glass, and in similar festoons or curves. In its passage, 
each wave slightly disturbs the sand below it and at its 
sides; then the waves gradually spread as they descend 
over the constantly widening surface of the slope, and 
the sound soon reaches its highest pitch; approaching 
the bottom the film gets thinner and thinner, at length 
aU movement ceases, and with it the sound. 

Of the various natural causes by which motion 
of the sand and consequent singing might be pro- 
duced, Captain Palmer named the wind (the pre- 
vailing direction of which is from the north-west), 
intense heat, and drought. Among possible arti- 
ficial causes he enumerated the movement of 
animals, such as gazelles, hyaenas, wolves, foxes, 



356 TALES OF TRAVEL 

hares, or jerboas, crossing the slide; or rocks roll- 
ing down from the heights above; and of course, 
the accidental or deliberate actions of man. 

With the Ordnance Survey was published an 
engraving of the sand-slope of Jebel Nakus, 
which is reproduced here, and which may be com- 
pared with Lieutenant Wellsted's drawing en- 
graved in his book/ The latter sketch represents 
the sand as apparently lying at a much steeper 
slope, and suggests exaggeration. Indeed the 
American, Dr. Bolton, said that it was quite in- 
accurate. 

Such was the record of their experience and im- 
pressions left by a series of English travellers of 
knowledge and repute in the second and third 
quarters of the past century. It is remarkable to 
me that. Tor being a regular station for visitors 
to Sinai, so few, even among professional trav- 
ellers who have touched or halted there, have 
seized the occasion to visit Jebel Nakus. Burton's 
ship was detained at Tor on his journey to Mecca, 
but he does not refer to the hill on that occasion. 
Nor does H. Brugsch, who spent three days in the 
town.^ Ehsee Reclus gives a clear local map 
showing the Nakus, but does not even refer to it 
in his text.^ No modern addition, indeed, has 
been made to the rather scant compendium which 
I have compiled until, in the eighties, a number of 
American scientists, who had devoted themselves 

1 Travels in Arabia, vol. ii. p. 24. 

2 Wamderung, p. 22 et seq. Leipzig, 1866. 

3 G-eographie Universelle, vol. ix., p. 822. 



THE SINGING SANDS 357 

with great application to the study of the problem 
of Musical Sands, turned their attention to Jebel 
Nakus, one of their number, Dr. H. C. Bolton, 
eventually deciding to visit the spot. The narra- 
tive of his journey in 1889 contains our latest 
information. In May 1889 Dr. Bolton's Report 
appeared in the Transactions of the New York 
Academy of Sciences, It will be seen that he 
heard the music, but in no striking degree: 

The name Jebel Nagous is given by the Bedouins to a 
mountain nearly three miles long and about 1200 feet 
high, composed of white sandstone bearing quartz pebbles 
and veins. On the west and north-west are several large 
banks of brown sand inclined at high angles. The sand 
on one of these slopes at the north-western end of the 
mountain has the property of yielding a deep resonance 
when it glides down the incline, either from the force 
of the wind or by the action of man. This bank of 
sand I distinguish from the others by calling it the Bell 
Slope. It is triangular in shape and measures 260 feet 
across the base, % feet across the top, and is 394 feet 
high. It has the inclination of 31° quite uniformly. It 
is bounded by vertical cliffs of sandstone and is broken 
towards the base by projecting rocks of the same material. 
The sand is yellowish in colour, very fine, and possesses 
at this inclination a curious mobility, which causes it to 
flow, when disturbed, like treacle or pitch, the depression 
formed being filled in from above and advancing upward 
at the same time. The sand has none of the character- 
istics of sonorous sand found on beaches. When pulled 
downward by the hand, or pushed by the feet, a strong 
vibration is felt and a low note is plainly heard, re- 



358 TALES OF TRAVEL 

sembling the deep bass of an organ-pipe. The loudness 
and continuity of the note are related to the mass of sand 
moved, but I think that those who compare it to distant 
thunder exaggerate. The bordering rocky walls give a 
marked echo, which may have the effect of magnifying 
and prolonging the sounds, but which is not essential. 
There are no cavities for the sand to fall into, as erro- 
neously reported. The peak of Jebel Nagous rises above 
the Bell Slope to the height of 955 feet above the sea- 
level. 

In October 1889 Dr. Bolton made a further 
report of the same visit, in which he described the 
sand of Jebel Nakus as very fine granules, yel- 
lowish white, and composed chiefly of quartz and 
calcareous sandstone, and added that " the sand of 
the slope is derived partly from disintegration of 
the rock itself and partly from the more distant 
plain below, from which violent winds blow it up 
on the mountain side." 

Other Arabian Sands 

The same thought, however, occurred to Dr. 
Bolton as must have presented itself to some of 
my readers, viz., whatever the cause or explanation 
of the sounds, how comes it that in countries and 
in regions where sand-dunes, sand-hills, and sand- 
drifts abound, apparently not differing widely 
from each other in shape or composition, the music 
is heard in so few places, and that Singing Sands, 
instead of being a normal, are so rare a phe- 
nomenon? Accordingly he began to search in the 



THE SINGIISTG SANDS 359 

neighbouring area for parallel sites, and without 
difficulty he discovered another sounding sand- 
hill 45 feet high, in the Wadi Werkan, five min- 
utes off the regular caravan route to Egypt, and 
one and a half days by camel from Suez. The 
spot is called by the Bedawin Ramadan, and is 
thus described by Dr. Bolton. The sand, when 
blown by the north wind, is carried over a range 
of cliffs and is deposited on their south side, where 
it rests on the steep face at an angle of 31° at the 
top and 21° or less below. On being stirred by 
the hand, the sand yielded the bass note, already 
heard at Jebel Nakus, and audible 100 feet away.^ 
Probably if similar investigations were conducted, 
a good many sand-dunes, where the particular 
combination of conditions, essential to the produc- 
tion of the music, exists — what they are I will dis- 
cuss later on — could be found; attention having 
been concentrated on a few sites where the phe- 
nomenon, whether in respect of the size of the 
sand-hill, or of the sounds produced, is on a larger 
scale, or has become associated either with the 
burial of a saint or some local superstition. 

Burckhardt, when he was in the Sinai Penin- 
sula in May 1816, heard of Jebel Nakus, and the 
Bedawin tales concerning it, but made no effort 
to test them by visiting the spot. On the other 
hand he heard even more precise stories about a 
similar phenomenon in another mountain of the 
Sinai group: 

1 Transaction of the New York Academy of Sciences, May 1889, 
p. 182. 



360 TALES OF TRAVEL 

Several Bedouins had acquainted me that a thundering 
noise, like repeated discharges of heavy artillery, is heard 
at times in these mountains ; and they all affirmed that 
it came from Om Shomar. The monks (of the Convent 
of St. Catherine) corroborated the story, and even posi- 
tively asserted that they had heard the sound about 
midday five years ago, describing it in the same manner 
as the Bedouins. The same noise had been heard in more 
remote times, and the Ikonomos, who had lived there forty 
years, told me that he remembered to have heard the noise 
at four or five separate periods. I inquired whether any 
shock of an earthquake had ever been felt on such occa- 
sions, but was answered in the negative.^ 

Burckhardt then made a special visit to Om 
Shomar, but without result. 

Niebuhr, who was in the same neighbourhood in 
the previous century and gave an illustration of 
Tor, makes no reference either to Jebel Nakus or 
to any other Sounding Sand in the vicinity. 

Another German traveller who made the jour- 
ney from Cairo to Medina and Mecca in April 
1845, Dr. G. A. Wallin, also refers to a place, 
called by his guide W'adi Hamade, somewhere in 
Northern Arabia north of Medina. He did not 
apparently either visit it or hear the music. But 
the Arab informed him that sometimes very 
strange sounds, like those of kettledrums, are 
heard to rise from the earth, without any one 
being able to account for this extraordinary phe- 
nomenon.^ 

1 Travels in Syria and the Holy Land, pp. 587-591. London, 1822. 

2 Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, vol. xxiv., 1854. 



THE SINGING SANDS 361 

So great a traveller and so profound a scholar 
as C. M. Doughty could not be expected, in his 
classic of Arabian travel, to leave the phenomenon 
of the Sounding Sands unnoticed, and accordingly 
we read with no surprise the following passage : 

In the Nefuz, towards El-Hyza, are certain booming 
sand-hills — Rowsa, Deffafiat, Subbia and Irzum, such as 
the sand drift of Jebel Nagus, by the sea village of Tor 
in Sinai; the upper sand sliding down under the foot of 
the passenger, there arises, of the infinite fretting grains, 
such a giddy loud-swelling sound as when your wetted 
finger is drawn about the lip of a glass of water, and like 
that swooning din after the chime of a great bell or cup 
of metal. Nagus is the name of the sounding-board 
in the belfry of the Greek monastery, whereupon, as the 
iacristan plays with his hammer, the timber yields a 
pleasant musical note which calls forth the formal colieros 
to their prayers ; another such singing sand drift, El- 
How ay ria, is in the cliffs (east of the Mizham) of Medain 
Salih/ 

H. St. J. Philby, the most recent and adven- 
turous of British travellers, in the Heart of 
Arabia, which title he has given to his excellent 
book (1922), tells me that he never heard the 
phenomenon himself, but that he was often told 
about it by the Arabs, more particularly in rela- 
tion to the dead city of Jahura, never visited by a 
European, and hidden away in the Great Desert, 
somewhere about the 22nd parallel of latitude and 

'^Travels in Arabia Deserta {circ. 1876), vol. i., p. 307. Cam- 
bridge, 1888. 



362 TALES OF TRAVEL 

the 51st of longitude, midway between the borders 
of Hejaz and Oman. There the sounds of drum- 
ming and moaning are regularly heard at night 
by passing travellers, by whom they are of course 
attributed to jinns, or ghosts, persons of weak 
intellect having even been known to lose their 
reason. This, however, may be a case of merely 
imaginary haunting, the product of superstition. 
Sir Richard Burton, though he does not appear 
anywhere to have heard the music, refers to 
examples in Midian. He also only quotes the 
evidence of others. A party from his expedition, 
headed by Lieutenant Amir Rushdi, were at a 
distance of about three hours, or eleven miles, 
from Sharma camp, when — 

. . . some pyramids of sand were pointed out in the 
Wady Ratiyah. The Bedawin call one of them the Goz el- 
Hannan (Moaning Sand-heap). They declare that when 
the Hajj -caravan passes, or rather used to pass, by that 
way, before the early sixteenth century, when Sultan Selim 
laid out his maritime high-road, a naubah (orchestra) 
was wont to sound within its bowel. This tale is told 
of two other places in Midian.^ 

It is true that some of these tales only repeat 
second-hand hearsay or even more remote tradi- 
tion. But they testify to a widespread belief in 
the existence of a phenomenon which there is no 
reason to doubt, and the manifestations of which 
are much more calculated to surprise us by their 
rareness than by their frequency. 

1 Land of Midian, vol. i., p. 65. London, 1879. 



THE SINGING SANDS 363 

Jehel-ut'Tabul 

In my studies I came across a passage in the 
travels of Ibn Batutah, the Moor of Tangier, who 
journeyed extensively in the East about a.d. 1330, 
and who thus described a place on the road be- 
tween Medina and Mecca, which he called Jebel- 
ut-Tabul or the Hill of Drums. 

At Bedr there is a spring the water of which forms a 
canal. The site of the well in which the idolaters — 
enemies of God — ^were thrown, is now a garden, and the 
burial place of the martyrs is behind it. The Mountain 
of Pity (Jebel-ur-Rahma), where the angels descended 
(Koran, iii. 119-121), is on the left hand of any one who 
enters upon this last spot in order to proceed towards 
Safra. In front is the Mount of Drums. It resembles a 
vast hill of sand, and the inhabitants of these countries 
declare that every night between Thursday and Friday 
they hear in this place a noise as of drums. The site of 
the hut of the Missionary of God, in which he spent the 
day at Bedr, in prayer to his Lord, is at the foot of the 
Mount of Drums. The place of combat is opposite to it.^ 

I sought for references to this spot in the pub- 
lished works of Burton, Burckhardt, and others 
who have made or described the journey from 
Medina to Mecca, but could not find any. 

I then referred to King Hussein of the Hejaz, 
who replied that he knew the locality well, having 

'^Voyages d'lhn Batoutah ( Def r^mery ) , vol. i., p. 296. Paris, 
1853. The allusion is of course to the famous battle of Bedr, in 
which Mohanmied defeated the Meccans in a.d. 623. 



364. TALES OF TRAVEL 

built a small mosque at the foot of the hill to com- 
memorate the famous victory of the Prophet, but 
that, though he was familiar with the rumour, he 
had never himself heard the drums. On the other 
hand, his son, Amit Abdullah of Trans Jordan, 
spoke of the phenomenon at Bedr as being of fre- 
quent and notorious occurrence. 

He added the information, derived from his 
Bedawin followers, who claimed to have them- 
selves heard the music, that sounds of thundering 
and groaning are also heard at night, and on most 
nights, in the sand-belt known as Arq-al-Subai in 
the neighbourhood of a locality known as Abraq- 
al-Manazil, on the way to Taif; and also in the 
sands near Khanug, which is described as lying 
ninety-five miles E.S.E. of Medina. These asser- 
tions, if true, are peculiar in ascribing the sound 
to night time, when the majority of the causes that 
are believed to produce the sound are unlikely to 
be in operation. In all these cases it is difficult to 
distinguish experience from rumour and truth 
from superstition. But at least the testimony 
tends to corroborate the belief that the Arabian 
sands exhibit many instances of the phenomenon. 

While I was writing this paper the representa- 
tive of King Hussein, who happened to be in 
London and heard of my investigations, gave me 
the following note: 

There is a place at Beirut, called Es-Sadat, which is 
said to produce a musical sound. It is compared to a 
tambourine. 



THE SINGING SANDS 365 

The place is a cave dug out in a rocky hill situated in 
the extreme western point of the city of Beirut and faces 
the "Pigeon Rocks" or " Shubra." The hill on the 
north dominates a vast sandy beach, which stretches from 
the foot of the hill all along the coast to a point five 
miles to the north-west. The sandy beach rises in some 
places to form a sandy hill. 

The people of Beirut say that they hear the music on 
Friday nights, and it is attributed to the playing of the 
Sadat — the Masters. These apparitions gather on Friday 
nights in that cave and go through the thikr with tam- 
bourines in the manner of the thikr to-day, as practised 
in some places after prayers on Friday. 

There is a man from Beirut, now in London, who says 
that when he was a boy he himself heard the music. His 
son added that his grandmother used to sit on Friday 
nights till late to hear the tambourines of the Sadat. 
They said that there are some people in Beirut who 
pretend to have seen people in white clothes going into 
the cave at night. 

I accordingly asked the British Consul at 
Beyrout to visit the place. He found that the 
ground in the neighbourhood of the cave is now 
in the occupation of the French naval authorities, 
who have erected a wireless station there, and that 
the cave itself, which is high enough to admit of 
a man standing upright in it, is used by the sailors 
as a petrol-store. The high ground on which it is 
situated dominates a large expanse of sand and 
sand-dunes, sometimes rising to a considerable 
height, but lying at some distance from the cave. 
The French have never heard any sounds; but 
native witnesses who have lived in the neighbour- 



366 TALES OF TRAVEL 

hood for many years have heard the music ema- 
nating from the cave (though not recently) and 
described it as resembhng the sound of a beaten 
tambourine. They added the not unexpected de- 
tail that the music was always heard on Thursday 
evenings {i.e,, on the eve of the Holy Day) and 
was accompanied by the voices of persons invok- 
ing the names of Allah and Mohammed! There 
I must leave it. It is quite possible that at an 
earlier date before the dunes were planted, as they 
have been in many places with pines, and built 
upon, some or other of the sand slopes may have 
been musical, and that the sounds so heard were 
connected by the superstitious natives with the 
mystery of the cave. The conditions which pro- 
duced vocality, if it ever existed, may now have 
ceased to operate. 

Before leaving the Continent of Asia, I should 
add that Sir H. Yule refers to a case in the hills 
between the Ulba and the Irtish, in the vicinity 
of the Altai, which he calls the Almanac Hills, 
because the sounds are supposed to prognosticate 
weather changes.^ But the only reference to these 
mountains of which I am aware is in a German 
publication, where they are called the Kalendar 
Mountains, and are said to give out a sharp report 
before bad weather — a phenomenon not without 
parallel, but bearing no relation to the Singing 
Sands.^ 



1 Marco Polo, vol, i., p. 206. 

2 Statement by Meyer in Ledebour's Reise, vol. ii., p. 186. Berlin, 
1830. 



THE SINGING SANDS 367 

The Libyan Desert 

It would be strange if no similar tales were 
forthcoming from the immense sand deserts of 
Africa, where the necessary conditions could hardly 
fail in some places to exist. But in the meagre 
literature of the subject I have found no such ref- 
erence, and I only owe the two following records 
to my own research. 

In April 1909, W. J. Harding King, travelling 
in the Libyan Desert, to the west of the Nile Val- 
ley, heard the song of the sands amid the dunes, 
some sixty feet high, not far from the Dakhla 
Oasis. The plateau over which he was journey- 
ing consisted of sandstone, but the meteorological 
conditions were somewhat unusual. After a week 
of great heat, followed by a cool, almost a cold 
day, with slight showersj a downpour of rain 
occurred for a quarter of an hour before sunset. 
Then was heard the music. 

The sound began at 7.30 p.m. and continued till about 
8. It was very faint. There were two distinct sounds: 
the one somewhat resembled the sighing of the wind in 
telegraph wires, and the other was a deep throbbing sound 
that strongly reminded me of the after-reverberation of 
Big Ben. ... It was very difficult to determine the direc- 
tion from which the sound came, but apparently it came 
from a place about a mile distant, where the sand poured 
over a low scarp. The sound was a distinctly musical 
one, as opposed to a mere noise.^ 

1 Geographical Journal, vol. xxxix., 1912, pp. 133-4. 



368 TALES OF TRAVEL 

The Western Sahara 

The German traveller, Dr. Oskar Lenz, who 
made long and adventurous explorations in the 
years 1874-80 in the Western Sahara, between 
Timbuctoo and Morocco, testifies to the same phe- 
nomenon at a spot in the Igidi region, near the 
well Bir-el- Abbas, a little north of 25° north lati- 
tude, longitude about 6^° west of Greenwich. 

Here in this Igidi region I observed the interesting 
phenomenon of the Musical Sand. In the midst of the 
solitude one suddenly hears emerging from the interior 
of a sand-hill a long-drawn hollow tone, like that of a 
trumpet, which continues for a few seconds, then stops, 
only to sound again from another spot after a short 
interval. This makes a weird impression in the death- 
like stillness of the uninhabited waste. It should be re- 
marked at once that there is absolutely no question of an 
acoustic illusion, comparable to the optical illusions to 
which one may be subject. Not only I, but all my people, 
heard these hollow tones, and the guide Mohammed already 
called our attention to this phenomenon the day before. 

The long-extended sand-dunes of the Igidi, which form 
regular chains of hills with sharp corners and summits, 
have, like all dunes, a gently rising surface directed to- 
wards the wind and in part at least a very steep fall 
on the opposite side. Here too they consist of a loose, 
very pure, light yellow quartz sand, which is heated as 
in a furnace by the sun. When these sand-hills are 
crossed by a caravan a movement is set up of the lightly- 
piled resonant quartz grains — which movement, at first 
limited to a small space, draws constantly larger circles 



THE SINGING SANDS 369 

Into sympathy with itself, and, like an avalanche, spreads 
itself over the whole surface of such a sand-hill. The 
motion of the loose sand-grains causes them to collide 
feebly with each other, by which an ever so slight note 
is produced ; by reason of the great volume of the moving 
sand-grains and the summation of the, individually, ex- 
tremely feeble tones, a noise results which may attain a 
quite extraordinary strength. As a rule the phenomenon 
occurs only when the sand is set in motion artificially, 
by men or camels, and when the disturbance of equilibrium 
penetrates somewhat deeply into the mass. Camels often 
sink knee-deep into the loose sand. A mere superficial 
movement, such as may be caused by the wind, will pro- 
duce the phenomenon in a very much slighter degree/ 

South Africa 

I have found a single mention of a Singing 
Sand-dune in South Africa, on the west side of 
the Langberg Mountain in Western Griqualand, 
on dunes 500-600 feet in height. But the descrip- 
tion of the musical sand is unfortunately omitted 
by the author, though apparently it had been re- 
corded by him.^ 

North America 

In North America I have come across a single 
record of a Singing Sand-dune, analogous to the 



'^Timbuktu: Reise durch Marokko Die Sahara und den Sudan, 
vol. ii., p. 53. Leipzig, 1884. 

2 Twenty--five Years in a Wagon in South Africa, by A. A. Ander- 
son, vol. i., p. 92. London, 1887. 



370 TALES OF TRAVEL 

Asian and African cases which we have been dis- 
cussing, and differing from the Musical Sand- 
beaches, of which there are so many examples in 
the American Continent. This is in Churchill 
county, in Nevada, twenty miles south of Still- 
water. The dune is said to be 100-400 feet in 
height, and four miles long. When agitation of 
the sand starts it sliding a noise is produced like 
that from telegraph wires fanned by a breeze.^ 

South America 

Tarapaca in Chile. — Here also we have the 
record of a Singing Sand-hill known locally as the 
Rumbling Mountain. It is described by a mining 
engineer, W. Bollaert, who in about 1830 was 
employed in the neighbourhood. He says: 

On the road from Tarapaca to Guantajaya, and six 
miles west of the Pozo (or well) de Ramirez, is the Cerrito 
de Huara, a hramador, or rumbling mountain, which is 
an object of curiosity to the traveller, but to the Indians 
one rather of fear. The sounds are generally heard about 
sunrise. This hill is situated in a desert plain. During 
the day the country around is exposed to great heat ; at 
night there is a considerable diminution of temperature, 
in consequence of the hot south wind having gone to the 
eastward, where it gets cooled by the Andes, forming 
during the night the land breeze. As the sun rises the 
air becomes heated, expansion takes place, rapid currents 
and even gusts of wind are formed, which, striking upon 
the sides of the mountains and setting the sand in motion, 

1 Troms. 'New York Acad. Sci., vol. iii., 1885, p. 97. 



THE SINGING SANDS 371 

cause probably the roaring or rumbling sounds in ques- 
tion/ 

Copiapo in Chile, — A few years later (in June 
1835) Charles Darwin, travelling in Chile, records 
another El Bramador or Bellower. While stay- 
ing in the town of Copiapo, he heard of, but did 
not himself visit, a neighbouring hill, covered by 
sand, where the sound was produced by people 
ascending the slope. " One person with whom I 
conversed had himself heard the noise; he de- 
scribed it as very surprising; and he distinctly 
stated that, although he could not understand how 
it was caused, yet it was necessary to set the sand 
rolling down the declivity." ^ 

A full description of this place appeared in 
Nature in July 1909 from the pen of M. H. Gray, 
who visited it with the British Consul, and thus 
narrated his experience, although he made the mis- 
take of supposing that the sound was caused or 
accentuated by the existence of old silver work- 
ings below the surface of the moving sand: 

In a ravine a few miles to the west of Copiapo the sand 
has been carried by the sea breeze up the gully and lies 
at a slope equal to the flowing angle of dry sand. The 
place is locally known as El Punto del Diabolo, since, 
given conditions of time and weather, a low moaning 
sound, varying in intensity, can be heard for quite a 
quarter of a mile away. Amongst the superstitious 
natives the place is avoided. . . . On our arrival we found 

1 Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, vol. xxi., 1851, p. 104. 

2 Voyage of the " Beagle" p. 366. London, 1901. 



372 TALES OF TRAVEL 

that the sands were quite silent, but on making a glissade 
down the slope a gradually increasing rumble was heard, 
which grew in volume as the sand slid away before us. 
As the sound increased we were subjected to an un- 
dulatory movement, so decided that it was difficult to 
keep one's balance. 



Hawaiian Islands 

The Barking Sands of Kauai, — Lastly comes 
the remarkable ease, said to have been discovered 
about the year 1850, of the so-called Barking 
Sands in one of the islands of the Hawaiian 
groups. Travellers in those strange and exotic 
scenes seem to have been largely unaware of or 
to have ignored the existence of this phenomenon. 
But they are mentioned in the works of Bates, 
Frink, Bird, Nordhoff, and some others. I take 
the following account from a newly published and 
official work on the natural history of the islands. 
The author writes as follows: 

The Barking Sands of Mana (in Kauai) consist of a 
series of wind-blown sand-hills, a half-mile or more in 
length, along the shore at Nahili. The bank is nearly 
60 feet high, and through the action of the wind the 
mound is constantly advancing on the land. The front 
wall is quite steep. The white sand, which is composed 
of coral, shells, and particles of lava, has the peculiar 
property, when very dry, of emitting a sound, when two 
handfuls are clapped together, that, to the imaginative 
mind, seems to resemble the barking of a dog. When a 
horse is rushed down the steep incline of the mound a 



THE SINGING SANDS 373 

curious sound as of subterranean thunder is produced. 
The sound varies with the degree of heat, the dryness of 
the sand and the amount of friction employed; so that 
sounds varying from a faint rustle to a deep rumble may 
be produced. Attempts at explaining this rare natural 
phenomenon have left much of the mystery still unsolved. 
However, the dry sand doubtless has a resonant quality 
that is the basis of the peculiar manifestation, which 
disappears when the sand is wet. That the Barking 
Sands are found in only a couple of the driest localities 
in the group is also significant. Much of the shore-line 
of Kauai, for example, is lined with old coral reefs that 
have partly disintegrated into sand that forms the 
beaches/ 

Dr. H. C. Bolton visited these sands in the 
spring of 1890 and thus described his experience: 

At its steepest part, the angle being quite uniformly 
31 , the sand has a notable mobility when perfectly dry, 
and, on disturbing its equilibrium, it rolls in wavelets 
down the incline, emitting at the same time a deep bass 
note of a tremulous character. My companion thought 
the sound resembled the hum of a buzz-saw in a planing 
mill. . . . The drier the sand the louder the sound. 

Kaluakahua. — Pursuing his investigations, Dr. 
Bolton discovered another Sonorous Sand-dune at 
a place called Kaluakahua in the neighbouring 
islet of Niihau in the same group. Here the music 
is heard on the land side of a dune about 100 feet 



1 W. A. Bryan, Natural History/ of Hawaii, p. 108. Hawaii, 1915. 
Vide also J. Blake, Proc. Calif. Acad. 8ci., 1873-5, vol. v., pp. 357-8. 



374 TALES OF TRAVEL 

high, and at several points along the coast. " On 
the chief slope, 36 feet high, the sand has the same 
mobility, lies at the same angle, and gives when 
disturbed the same note as the sand of Kauai, but 
less strong, the slope being so much lower." ^ 

Dr. Bolton added, as demonstrating that the 
acoustic property is independent of material, that, 
whereas admittedly the Sonorous Sands of all 
other known localities are silicious, being either 
pure silex or a mixture of the same with silicates, 
such as feldspar, the Hawaiian sands are wholly 
carbonate of lime. 

I have now completed my summary of the 
various localities in different and widely scattered 
parts of the world, where the phenomenon of the 
Singing Sands, either in steeply sloping sand-hills 
or in dunes, has been or still is heard; and I have 
shown that instead of there being only two or at 
the most three spots, as the majority of writers 
have alleged, where it exists, it is on the contrary 
widely diffused, and is to be found in both hemi- 
spheres and in every continent, except, as it seems, 
that of Europe, where the general paucity of 
sand, except in the neighbourhood of the sea, and 
the climatic conditions are presumably unfavour- 
able to its reproduction. 

I have also, I think, collected a body of evidence 
sufficient to allow of certain definite deductions to 
be drawn, both as to the cause of the phenomenon 
and the conditions under which it is most likely to 
be produced. 

1 Trans. New York Acad. Sci., vol x., 1890, pp. 28-30. 



THE SINGING SANDS 375 

Firstly, let me deal with what I may describe 
as the predisposing, though not always indispen- 
sable, factors. These are to be found in a number 
of conditions — viz., geographical situation, orien- 
tation of sand-hill, slope of sand-hill, composition 
of sand, climatic or meteorological features. We 
can then proceed to an analysis of the sounds pro- 
duced, and of the mechanical or other causes that 
produce them. 

Although the music is heard from sand-slopes 
or dunes of varying height and dimensions, it un- 
doubtedly appears that it is loudest and most 
renowned in the case of sand-hills piled up to a 
considerable height against a background of cliffs 
or rocks; these act in some cases as a sounding- 
board to the music, echoing and deepening the 
tones. We find this theatre of rocks existing in 
the case of the Chinese Rumbling Hill, the two 
Afghan Moving Sands, the Arabian hills of Jebel 
Nakus and Jebel-ut-Tabul, and probably in other 
cases. Against this background the sand, partly 
derived from disintegration of the rocks, partly 
swept up by the winds from the lower level, is 
deposited by the gales in a sloping bank, as a rule 
narrow at the summit and broadening as it 
descends. Sometimes the sand is blown over the 
top of the scarp by a wind from the opposite 
quarter. In certain of the localities there appears 
to be something either in the configuration of the 
ground or in the action of the wind that results 
in the concentration of the sand on the particular 
site where the sound is produced as distinct from 



376 TALES OF TRAVEL 

any neighbouring spot. The principal sounding 
sand-hills in this category seem, as a rule, if not 
invariably, to face either towards the south or 
west-south-west. We hear sometimes of the sound 
as emanating from sand patches with another 
orientation, but in those cases the sound is much 
feebler. In other words, the action of the sun, 
beating continuously upon the surface of the sand, 
and causing dryness, is a material factor in the 
predisposing conditions. 

Different authorities have given different figures 
— doubtless arrived at without measurement and 
as the result of a rough shot — for the angle of 
inclination of the musical slope. Some say 40°, 
others 50°. The more careful examination of 
Professor Palmer and Dr. Bolton showed that the 
angle of Jebel Nakus is 31°, which is the natural 
angle of rest of sand; and this is the figure, 
supported by other examples, which we may ac- 
cept as the normal factor in the case. 

In cases where the sand-slope rests against a 
wall of rock, from the decomposition of which the 
sand is partially formed, it is noticeable that these 
rocks are almost always, if not always, of a light- 
coloured friable sandstone, mingled sometimes with 
limestone. Similarly the sonorous sand itself is 
of the same or a similar composition, being yellow 
or whitish in colour and consisting of mainly 
quartz grains. The chemical composition of the 
sand probably does not differ materially in any 
of the Sonorous Sand-hills, whether in Asia or 
Africa. The Barking Sands of Kauai are in a 



THE SINGING SANDS 377 

rather different category, being, not quartz, but 
coral-sand and shell-sand, with 95 per cent calcite. 
In every case there is a complete absence of very 
fine particles of silt, and dunes where there is 
much shaly matter are not musical, although other 
conditions may be favourable. 

Although the sound is heard at different times 
of the year, it is not surprising — viewing the large 
part that heat and dryness play in the production 
— that the dry season is regarded as the most 
favourable time, at least in those parts of the 
world where there are great variations of climate. 
Where there is a tolerably uniform degree of heat 
in the daytime, the precise season will be less 
material. 

It is difficult to determine the exact part which 
the wind may or does play in evoking the acoustic 
property of the sand. There can be no doubt 
that, where the music is heard in circumstances 
which admit of no mechanical or artificial causa- 
tion, the wind is capable by itself of playing upon 
the chords, and producing the vibration that is 
necessary for the manufacture of the sound. 
This is the explanation of the fortuitous occur- 
rence of the phenomenon. Whether the music is 
louder when the wind blows from a certain quarter 
is not certain, although some of our observers 
appear to have thought that this was so. Lieu- 
tenant Newbold in particular, who was a man of 
scientific attainments, and whose account of Jebel 
Nakus is the best that we possess, was of opinion 
that the action and direction of the wind were im- 



378 TALES OF TRAVEL 

portant factors, and that experiment should be 
made to ascertain the wind conditions that were 
most propitious to sound production. 

Differing from the case of the Singing Beaches, 
to which I shall come presently — where dryness 
after moisture appears to be the most favourable 
condition — it would seem that in the case of the 
Musical Sand-hills the drier the sand the more 
likely the phenomenon. Rain having fallen a 
short time before Lieutenant Wellsted's second 
visit to Jebel Nakus, and the sand being still con- 
solidated by the moisture, he did not hear the 
music at all. Professor Palmer, at the same spot, 
found that the cool or shaded sand produced only 
the faintest noise, while the dry and exposed parts 
gave forth a loud reverberation. Only in the case 
of the Libyan sands do we hear of the music as 
following upon rain, and here the description is 
far from conclusive. It may, I think, therefore be 
generally accepted that the warmth of the air, and 
the consequent dryness of the sand, resulting in 
incoherency of the sand-grains, are elements of 
value in the case. 

And now I come to the sound itself. A few 
writers have made fun of the varying reports and 
the conflicting similes of the writers who have 
heard the music. I, on the contrary, am impressed 
by their similarity and agreement. We all know 
how difficult in practice it is to identify a sound, 
for which no obvious or artificial cause is forth- 
coming, with the notes of this or that musical in- 
strument. One man will find a likeness here, an- 



THE SINGING SANDS 379 

other there; and this is all the more easy if the 
sound itself that is the subject of the comparison 
differs materially not only at different times, but 
at different moments of the same time. For 
nothing can, I think, be more clear in the case of 
the Singing Sand-hills than that they have dif- 
ferent notes, dependent upon the degree of vibra- 
tion set up in the sand-grains by the force of the 
external impulse communicated to them. The 
music seems to pass through at least three distinct 
phases or gradations. First there is the faintly 
murmurous or wailing or moaning sound, com- 
pared sometimes to the strain of an ^olian harp, 
at others to the humming of a top or the singing 
of a telegraph wire, or, when deeper, to the chords 
of a violoncello. Then as the vibration increases 
and the sound swells, we have the comparison 
sometimes to an organ, sometimes to the deep 
clangour of a bell, more frequently, in the case of 
the ancients, to the more resonant musical instru- 
ments with which they were familiar, namely, 
trumpets and kettle-drums. Finally, we have the 
rumble of distant thunder when the soil is in vio- 
lent oscillation and the sand-grains are striking 
each other sharply as they glide into the vacant 
spaces. Because one auditor hears the fainter as 
compared with the louder music, there is no reason 
for accusing the witness to the latter of exaggera- 
tion. 

The evidence also seems to be clear that the 
music can be heard at a great distance. Native 
witnesses testify to a distance of many miles. 



380 TALES OF TRAVEL 

But trained and credible European observers have 
more than once spoken of a mile. The conditions 
under which the phenomenon has hitherto been 
investigated have not been favourable to the col- 
lection of scientific data of this supplementary 
type. Probably as time passes there will be a 
greater disposition, and perhaps fuller opportuni- 
ties, to procure them. 

Another interesting feature, about which it is 
at present impossible to dogmatise, is the length 
of time for which the music is heard. Few of our 
observers have been definite upon this point; and 
doubtless it is in large measure dependent upon 
the degree of vibration set up and the continuance 
or suspension of the determining cause. Captain 
Lovett reported of the Seistan phenomenon that 
** it was said sometimes to last as long as an hour 
at a time." Newbold spoke of the cessation of the 
sound, which was co-extensive with the movement 
of the sand, as having taken place after a quarter 
of an hour. Here again more scientific research 
will be of value. 

Further the vibratory motion of the sands is 
capable of being communicated to the observer. 
Professor Palmer, at Jebel Nakus, when he swept 
portions of the sand rapidly forward with his 
arm, felt a peculiar tingling sensation. Lieu- 
tenant Newbold spoke of the sensations produced 
by the vibrations as extraordinary. Lieutenant 
Wellsted described the rock as vibrating power- 
fully. Other observers, standing on the sands, 
while the music is sounding, have experienced 



THE SINGING SANDS 381 

similar vibrations. The Englishmen who visited 
El Bramador at Copiapo were so shaken by the 
oscillation of the sounding sand that they could 
scarcely stand. The American scientists record a 
tingling sensation in the feet or hands, when 
treading on or striking the Musical Sand Beaches 
to which I shall presently turn. 

Those who have followed me thus far will have 
no difficulty in arriving at an opinion as to how 
the sound is produced. We may roughly describe 
the causes of production as three in number. 
First, there are the occasions when the music is 
heard, without any visible or extraneous cause, 
i,e.j when the sand vibrations are set up by ex- 
treme heat or drought. The Mohammedans of 
course attempt to connect these manifestations 
with their Sunday, which is our Friday; but he 
would be an unwise investigator who confined his 
visits to those occasions. Secondly, comes the 
direct action of the wind, setting the sand particles 
in. continuous but not violent motion and produc- 
ing a murmuring or droning sound. Thirdly, is 
the direct intervention of artificial agents, taking 
the form as a rule of men or animals treading 
upon the surface, either when climbing the sand- 
slope or — which is easier — ^trampling down it, and 
producing the abrupt commotion which is the cause 
of the acute surface vibration noticed by some 
travellers, and of the long thunderous reverbera- 
tions rolling and bellowing in the underground 
chambers. What the direct causes are, apart from 
wind, the casual passage of wild animals, or the 



382 TALES OF TRAVEL 

accidental fall of rocks (where there are rocks), 
which produce the sound at night, if it is really 
heard then, it is more difficult to determine. 

We can realise also how the actual sound is pro- 
duced. As the surface is distm-bed, the sand 
descends in gliding, sliding festoons, the music 
deepening as the undulations spread and the sand- 
grains rub and clash against each other in the 
course or their fall. The to-and-fro motion of the 
sand-grains sends out equally spaced waves into 
the air with a frequency exceeding forty vibra- 
tions a second and probably very much greater. 
It may seem strange that the slight noise produced 
by the falling together of sand-grains should be 
able to swell to the note of a trumpet or the roar 
of thunder; but it is not inappropriate to refer to 
the analogous case of the avalanche, where causes 
the most minute can produce a final effect which 
is colossal. 

It does not appear that the movement of the 
sand makes any material alteration in the extent 
or contour of the slope, for, as the vacuum is 
created and the sand descends, the empty spaces 
fill up again from below, equilibrium is re-estab- 
lished, and the shape of the sand-hill remains as 
before. 

Why the resonance should be evoked at one 
attempt, and should refuse to respond at the next, 
must be due to some local and accidental variation 
in the condition of the sand or in the impulse com- 
mimicated by the external agent, which it is im- 



THE SINGING SANDS 383 

possible to determine with exactitude. For in- 
stance, if the sand has been trampled upon on one 
day, it may no longer lie at the angle of rest, and 
may not become musical again until, helped by 
wind and gravity, it has resumed the necessary 
conditions. 

The restriction of the sound to so apparently 
limited a number of places (though I suspect that 
this is in the main the result of imperfect observa- 
tion) and the silence of the sand in others (apart 
from the physical differences of site and surround- 
ings and climate) must, I think, be attributable to 
some essential quality or conformation in the 
sand-grains themselves. As will be seen later on, 
experiments in the case of Singing Beaches have 
shown that their vocality is produced when the 
grains are of a certain size and uniformity and 
shape, so that they can strike against each other 
with the minimum of disturbance. And it may 
well be that some such distinctive properties are 
required of the sand-grains in the Singing Hills 
and Dunes. Here again scientific researches might 
lead to more definite conclusions. 

II. Musical Beaches 

I now pass to the consideration of another 
branch of the problem, viz., that of the Musical 
Sands to be found in many places both in Europe 
and America, and I doubt not (were they searched 
for) elsewhere, on the beaches of lakes or the 



384 TALES OF TRAVEL 

shores of the sea. I distinguish these sharply 
from the class which I have hitherto been exam- 
ining, because (a) the physical conditions in which 
the sound is produced are quite different; (b) the 
acoustic phenomena are on a far smaller and quite 
inconsiderable scale; (c) they are caused not by 
dislodgment of comparatively large masses of 
sand, striking against each other, and humming or 
booming as they collide and fall, but by proper- 
ties inherent, either permanently or transiently, in 
the sand, and capable of excitement by a number 
of still obscure causes usually involving some form 
of impact or compression. 

Island of Eigg 

The first of these Musical Sands to be discov- 
ered and seriously noted upon in modern times was 
that in the Bay of Laig in the little island of Eigg 
in the Hebrides. Hugh Miller, the well-known 
geologist, discovered this Singing Beach in 1845, 
and described it, when struck by the foot, particu- 
larly obliquely, as emitting at each step " a shrill 
sonorous note, somewhat resembling that pro- 
duced by a waxed thread when tightened between 
the teeth and the hand and tipped by the nail of 
the forefinger." He added: "As we marched 
over the drier tracts, an incessant woo, woo, woo 
rose from the surface, that might be heard in the 
calm some twenty or thirty yards away; and we 
found that where a damp semi-coherent stratum 
lay at the depth of three or four inches beneath. 



THE SINGING SANDS 385 

and all was dry and incoherent above, the tones 
were loudest and sharpest and most easily evoked 
by the foot." ^ The Eigg beach has since been 
visited by most of the experts who have been in- 
terested on the subject. They have reported the 
sand as white in colour and as composed chiefly 
of quartz with grains of shell magnetite, silicified 
wood, etc. When specimens have been taken 
away and experimented with, they have retained 
their musical character, though, after being wetted, 
they become immediately mute. 



Studland Bay 

C. Carus-Wilson, who has been the principal 
British student of the phenomenon of Sonorous 
Sands, has also reported upon a Musical Sand- 
patch at Studland Bay in Dorset. " The patch 
averaged 7% yards in width and ran parallel with 
the trend of the shore for some hundreds of yards. 
The sand on the sea-side of the patch was fine, 
and emitted notes of a high pitch; that on the 
land-side was coarse, and emitted notes of a lower 
pitch." This sand also retained its musical quality 
after being taken off the patch and experimented 
upon, i,e,^ struck at home.^ 

1 The Cruise of the " Betsey ^" or A Summer Ramile Among the 
Hebrides, p. 58. London, 1858. 

2 Nature (London), vol. xxxviii., 1888, pp. 415-540, vol. xlix., 1891, 
p. 322 and vol. Ixxxvi., 1911, p. 518. The author had first mooted the 
subject in a paper entitled "Musical Sand," read before the Bourne- 
mouth Society of Natural Science on November 2, 1888, and published 
at Poole. Vide also Discovery, No. 5, 1920, pp. 156-8. 



386 TALES OF TRAVEL 

Other English Beaches 

Patches of Musical Sand have been reported at 
other places along the English coast, e.g,, at 
Tenby and near Barmouth/ and also at Lunan 
Bay, Forfar.^ I do not doubt that they exist in 
many other locahties and only await discovery. 

Baltic Beaches 

Other Singing Beaches in Europe are those on 
the Island of Bornholm, belonging to Denmark, 
and of Kolberg in Prussia on the Baltic. Here, 
as at Studland, only small tracts of the sand pos- 
sess the acoustic property, and it is transient in 
its operation. Dr. Berendt, who investigated the 
phenomenon, attributed it to the saline crust on 
the beach. But this theory is discountenanced by 
the fact that precisely the same results are pro- 
duced elsewhere, where there are no sea and no 
salt. Sands from both these places were procured 
by the American researchers. Dr. H. C. Bolton 
and Dr. A. A. Julien, and experimented upon in 
the course of their studies in 1884.* 

American Beaches 

By far the most famous of the Musical Beaches 
are those which have been found in great numbers 
— probably owing to the superior activity of the 

1 Nature, June 1911, p. 484. 

2 lUd. vol. xxxviii., 1888, p. 515. 

^ Trans. New York Acad. 8oi. vol. iii., 1885, pp. 97-9. 



THE SINGING SANDS 387 

American inquirers — in the continent of America, 
and notably on the shores of Lake Michigan. The 
dmie region extends along the eastern shore of 
the lake from Gary at the southern extremity to 
Mackinac at the northern, with few interruptions. 
Throughout the region the sands near the water's 
edge, in dry weather, emit a peculiar, but definite 
and unmistakable, sound, when the foot of the 
pedestrian pushes through them in an abrasive 
way. The sound is produced not only by the 
leather-shod foot, but is emitted also if the bare 
foot or hand is struck through the grains, or if a 
stick is trailed behind ."^ 

The latest description of the Michigan Sands is 
contained in a paper by W. D. Richardson in 
1919. He writes as follows: ^ 

The sound has been compared to that produced by 
the pedestrian walking through soft snow ; to the crunch- 
ing noise so frequently noticed when walking through 
•snow after very cold weather or by the wheel of a vehicle 
on such snow; also to the sound emitted by hard, gran- 
ular snow when one walks through it; but it is like none 
of these and has a distinctive character all its own. 

The sound is produced only when the sand is dry, and 
apparently the dryer the sand is the louder the sound 
produced. In wet weather or when the sand is moder- 
ately moist, the sound is not produced. In summer and 
indeed in the hottest weather the sound seems to be 
loudest, other conditions being the same, but it can be 
clearly heard at all seasons of the year, including winter, 

1 W. D. Richardson in Science, vol. 1., 1919, p. 493. 
2 Science, vol. 1., 1919, p. 493. 



388 TALES OF TRAVEL 

whenever the sand is dry. As one walks away from the 
water's edge he may be astonished to find out that the 
sound-producing sand ceases rather abruptly about 50 to 
100 feet from the shore line. These limits may vary at 
different locations, but on the whole they are substantially 
correct. Back and away from the shore line, in blowouts 
and on the sides and tops of the dunes, the sound is never 
produced, There is no observable difference between the 
sand located near the shore and that located farther back 
or that forming the dunes, and indeed the sand which is 
washed up by the waves is that which, blown by the wind, 
goes to form the dunes. 

The»upper beach limit of the singing «ands is practically 
identical with the upper wave limit, that is, the boundary 
reached by the waves during storms. This limit is marked 
roughly by the line of driftwood and the lower limit of 
vegetation. The singing sands are, therefore, all sub- 
jected to periodical contact with the water of the lake 
and are moistened and washed by that water. 

These observations include, I think, all the obvious ones 
in connection with the singing sands. The most casual 
observer will remark with astonishment their very sharply 
defined upper limit. As one walks from the water's edge 
up the beach and crosses the upper wave limit he notices 
a sudden cessation of sound as he passes the upper line 
of driftwood and the commencement of vegetation. Be- 
yond this point he may proceed into a blowout of clear 
sand quite identical in appearance, macroscopic as well 
as microscopic, and of the same composition by ordinary 
methods of analysis, and yet this sand fails entirely to 
produce the sound of the beach sand. His first conclusion 
would be that the proximity of the water and waves of the 
lake must have some relationship to the sound-producing 
ffrains. 



THE SINGING SANDS 389 

An equally famous beach is that of Manchester- 
by-Sea, Mass., which has been a good deal written 
about. Thoreau is the first writer whose record 
of the Manchester beach I have encountered.^ He 
visited it in September 1858. 

One mile south-east of the village of Manchester we 
struck the beach of musical sand. . , . We found the 
same kind of sand on a similar but shorter beach on the 
east side of Eagle Head. We first perceived the sound 
when we scratched with an umbrella or the finger swiftly 
and forcibly through the sand; also still louder when we 
struck forcibly with our heels, " scuffling " along. The 
wet or damp sand yielded no peculiar sound, nor did that 
which lay loose and deep next the bank, but only the more 
compact and dry. The sound was not at all musical, 
nor was it loud. . . . R., who had not heard it, was about 
right when he said it was like that made by rubbing wet 
glass with your finger. I thought it as much like the 
sound made in waxing a table as anything. It was a 
squeaking sound, as of one particle rubbing on another. 
I should say it was merely the result of the friction of 
peculiarly formed and constituted particles. The surf 
was high and made a great noise, yet I could hear the 
sound made by my companion's heels two or three rods 
distant, and if it had been still, probably could have heard 
it five or six rods. 

Drs. Bolton and Julien, visiting the Manchester 
Beach in 1883, described it as a small crescent, 
three-quarters of a mile in length, and added: 

1 " Autumn," from the Journal of H. D. Thoreau, p. 493. Boston, 
1886. 



390 TALES OF TRAVEL 

When struck by the foot or stroked by the hand it 
yields a peculiar sound which may be likened to a sub- 
dued crushing. The sound is of low intensity and pitch, 
and is non-metallic, non-cracking. This phenomenon is 
confined to that part of the beach lying between water- 
line and the loose sand above the reach of ordinary high 
tide. Some parts of the beach emit a louder sound than 
others. The Sounding Sand is near the surface only. 
At the depth of 1 or 2 feet the acoustic properties dis- 
appear, probably owing to the moisture. Only the dry 
sand has this property. The sounds occur when walking 
over the beach, increase when the sand is struck obliquely 
by the foot, and can be intensified by dragging over it a 
wooden pole or board. A slight noise is perceptible upon 
mere stirring by the hand, or upon plunging one finger 
into the sand and suddenly withdrawing it.^ 

Yet another American Singing Beach is that 
of Far Rockaway, on Long Island, a sample of 
the sand of which, when removed from a bottle in 
which it had lain imdisturbed for thirty-five years, 
poured into a stocking, and compressed, gave out 
its original high note, audible at a considerable dis- 
tance. This, however, after the sand had been 
handled, it soon lost.^ 

So indefatigable were the American experts in 
their labours that, after a year of investigation, 
they had discovered, in 1884, in answer to their 
circulars of inquiry, no fewer than seventy-four 
places in the United States where the phenomenon 
of sonorous sand occurred. These were mostly on 

1 Proceedings of the American Association for the Advancement of 
Science, vol. xxxii., 1883, p. 251. 

2 Science (New York), vol. li., 1920, p. 64. 



THE SINGING SANDS 391 

the Atlantic coast. In 1890, however, Dr. H. C. 
Bolton personally visited the Pacific coast and dis- 
covered Sounding Sands at a number of places in 
California. He also reported the existence of a 
sonorous sand-hill at the extreme southern end of 
the Peninsula of Lower Cahfornia, where the 
sound produced by the sliding sand is like that of 
bells, and is explained by the Mexicans, like the 
music at Jebel Nakus, as proceeding from the 
bells of a monastery that once existed on this site, 
but was overwhelmed by the drifting sand.^ I 
entertain little doubt that similar inquiries would 
produce similar results in other parts of the world. 

Costa Rica 

At one of the meetings of the New York Acad- 
emy of Sciences in March 1884, after an account 
by Dr. Julien of his visits to Eigg and Man- 
chester-by-Sea, and other American sites, a visitor 
arose and described his experience on the shore of 
Costa Rica, on the Caribbean Sea, about seven- 
teen miles south of Greytown, in 1864, where he 
had heard at 11 p.m. on successive nights sounds 
from the sea-beach that were " sometimes hke a 
low roar or the barking of a dog, sometimes like 
the voices of men conversing, sometimes like hun- 
dreds of loud voices in the air, sometimes like sing- 
ing, sometimes like the stringing of chords." He 
had attributed these sounds to the fact that the 
sand lay upon a coral reef, fissured by very deep 

1 Trcms. New York Acad, of 8ci., vol. x., 1890, pp. 31-5. 



392 TALES OF TRAVEL 

clefts, and he had thought at first that it must be 
due to the movement of sea water in the hollows; 
but he now thought it must have been the sand."^ 
It will be remembered that the Barking Sands of 
Kauai are mainly composed of disintegrated coral. 

Other Musical Beaches 

The continuous studies of the American experts 
have revealed the existence of the same phe- 
nomenon in such widely different parts of the 
world as Botany Bay, New South Wales; Brown's 
River Bay, Tasmania; Cape Ledo, and Liberia, 
West Africa. In fact, I do not doubt that musical 
sand is frequent in both hemispheres, and only 
lacks the discoverer or the reporter to become 
much more widely known. 

It will have been seen how widely different are 
these phenomena from that of the larger and more 
vocal group of sand-hills and sand slopes before 
described. The former share with the latter the 
common feature of vocality arising from the vibra- 
tion of sand-grains set in motion, but {a) they are 
found only on the shores of seas or lakes, and in 
a few recorded cases on the banks of rivers,^ but 
not, so far as I know, on horizontal sand patches 
in the interior; (b) the displacement of the sand- 
grains requires to be only of the slightest, in order 
to evoke the sound; (c) the nature of the sound, 
in respect of pitch and volume, is insignificant 

1 Trans. New York Acad, of 8ci. vol. iii., 1885, p. 73. 
ziUd., vol. X., 1890, pp. 33-5, 



THE SINGING SANDS 393 

compared with the kettle-drums and trumpets, the 
thundering and rumbling of the great sand-hills; 
(d) the acoustic property, given a certain degree 
of dryness and warmth, seems to be very con- 
sistent in its presence and action. 

When we come to a scientific explanation of the 
exact causes which produce the vibration and 
therefore the sound, we are in an area of greater 
speculation, for I find that no two experts wholly 
agree. Among the theories which have been ad- 
vanced, but which, though sufficient in some cases, 
seem to be inapplicable in others, are equality of 
size of sand-grains, resonance due to cellular 
structure, effervescence of air between moistened 
surfaces, Solaris ation, reverberation within subter- 
ranean cavities, electrical phenomena. 

The result of the experiments made by C. 
Carus- Wilson was to convince him that the phe- 
nomenon of Musical Sands is found (1) where 
the grains are rounded, polished, and free from 
fine fragments; (2) where they have a sufficient 
amount of " play " to enable them to slide or rub 
one against the other; (3) where the grains are 
perfectly clean; and (4) where they possess a cer- 
tain degree of uniformity in size, and are within 
a certain range of size.^ If these conditions are 
satisfied, and if the grains, rubbing against each 
other, produce a number of vibrations of equal 
length, then the musical note results. Elsewhere 
he says that the notes are due to " the rubbing 
together of millions of clean and incoherent grains 

1 Nature, vol. Ixiv., 1891, p. 322. 



394 TALES OF TRAVEL 

of quartz, with no angularities, roughness, or 
adherent matter investing the grains; and that, 
though the vibrations emitted by the friction of 
any two grains might be inaudible, those issuing 
from millions approximately of the same size 
would give an audible note." ^ 

On the other hand, the American researchers, 
Drs. Bolton and Julien, rejected all these hy- 
potheses,^ and, after years of study, arrived at the 
following conclusion: 

The true cause of the sonorous property is connected 
with thin pellicles or films of air or of gases thence de- 
rived, deposited, and condensed upon the surface of the 
sand-grains during gradual evaporation, after wetting by 
the sea, lakes, or rains. By virtue of these films the sand- 
grains become separated by elastic cushions of condensed 
gases, capable of considerable vibration. The extent of 
the vibration and the amount and tone of the sound 
thereby produced, after any quick disturbance of the sand, 
is largely dependent upon the forms, structures, and sur- 
faces of the sand-grains, and especially upon their purity 
or freedom from fine silt or dust.^ 

The American experts would, I understand, 
apply this hypothesis to the explanation of all 

"^Discovery, No. 5, 1920, p. 157. 

2 They said that Mr. Wilson's theory might fairly explain squeak- 
ing sand, but was insufficient to explain musical sand. They reported 
the former as existing in two places only, both in so-called boiling 
springs — one in Maine, the other in Kansas — where a shrill squeaking 
sound is produced by attrition when the sand is moist. This is, of 
course, quite a different phenomenon. 

3 Trans. New York Acad. Sci., vol, viii., p. 10. Ihid., vol. x., 1890, 
pp. 28-35. 



THE SINGING SANDS 395 

sonorous sands, whether on sea or lake shores or 
in the deserts. In other words, they postulate 
everywhere some degree of previous moisture, 
induced or exhausted by evaporation. This would 
indeed appear to be probable enough in the case 
of beach sands, and is supported by experiments 
showing that the singing quality of such sands is 
apt to become extinct after they have dried out. 

How far this theory is applicable to the big 
sonorous sand-hills cannot be ascertained without 
meteorological data that are at present lacking. 
But I cannot help thinking that in the majority 
of the cases cited in the earlier part of this essay 
rainfall must be a very rare phenomenon, while in 
only one record of a successful visit is there any 
mention of previous shower or storm. That 
sonorousness anywhere is largely dependent upon 
meteorological conditions, i.e.j the dryness or mois- 
ture of the atmosphere, is a less contestable propo- 
sition. 

I should add that Drs. Bolton and Julien have 
never, to the best of my knowledge, published any 
experimental proof of the validity of their expla- 
nation, which is not generally accepted. 

Another explanation is offered by Professor 
J. H. Poynting and Sir J. Thomson in their 
" Treatise on Sound," ^ based on a paper by Pro- 
fessor Osborne Reynolds " On the Dilatancy of 
Media composed of Rigid Particles in Contact." ^ 

Reynolds showed that in granular media in 

1 Text Booh of Physics. London, 1913. 
^PUl. Mag. Ser. 5, vol. xx., 1885, pp. 469-81. 



396 TALES OF TRAVEL 

which the grains are sensibly hard, so long as the 
grains are held in mutual equilibrium by stresses 
transmitted through the mass, every change of 
relative position of the grains is attended by a con- 
sequent change of volume. For such granular 
medium he assumed that the position of any in- 
ternal particle becomes fixed when the positions of 
the surroundings particles are fixed: a condition 
which is very generally fulfilled unless there is 
considerable friction. It follows from this that 
no grain in the interior can change its position 
without disturbing the contiguous grains; hence 
in a mediima in which the friction is sufficiently 
small the movement of any one grain in the 
medium involves the movement of every other 
grain of the medium. 

The explanation offered by Poynting and 
Thomson is as follows : " There is an arrange- 
ment of minimum volume for a number of equal 
spheres in contact. We may suppose the sand to 
consist of equal spheres arranged, when undis- 
turbed, so as to occupy minimum volume. When 
disturbed the mass may pass through many succes- 
sive minima of volume before coming to rest, and 
if we can suppose the time occupied in passing 
from one minimum to the next is constant, a 
musical note should issue." 

The condition that the grains are spherical is 
not an essential one, but such an assumption 
assists the imagination and facilitates calculations. 
The essential conditions will be that friction shall 
be below, and that the time occupied in passing 



THE SINGING SANDS 397 

from one minimum to another shall be constant — 
which implies uniformity of grain. 

This explanation seems to be reasonable, but 
has not as yet been definitely proved by experi- 
ment. A slight adaptation of Carus-Wilson's 
idea that the sound is due to the rubbing together 
of millions of sand-grains of approximately the 
same size may lead us to a possible cause, or at 
least to a contributory cause, of the musical notes, 
and will give a note the pitch of which depends in 
the same way on grain-size and rate of displace- 
ment as does the frequency of the volume changes. 

If the displacement of any one grain involves 
the displacement of all the others in the mass, we 
have millions of grains undergoing similar dis- 
placements at the same instant. The displacement 
involves the repeated pushing of one grain over 
the next below it into the depression beyond. If 
we can imagine each grain falling over the edge 
of the grain below, striking the next grain with a 
little impact, and repeating this with perfect regu- 
larity every time it changes its position, we have 
a cause for a regular train of equally spaced 
sound-waves which, when of sufficiently high fre- 
quency, will give a musical note. The periods of 
the impacts will be identical with the periods 
between successive minima of volume in the 
Poynting and Thomson theory. The two effects 
may go on simultaneously, and will produce notes 
of the same pitch. The Poynting and Thomson 
volume-change is no doubt mainly responsible for 
the musical notes, but it is difficult to tell to what 



398 TALES OF TRAVEL 

extent the actual contact of the grains is contribu- 
tory to the sound. 

And so, in this rather nebulous phase of specu- 
lative uncertainty, I leave the Sounding Sands to 
continue their mysterious song, confining their 
favours to the lucky few, and exciting the curi- 
osity, but, I hope, no longer the incredulity, of the 
remainder. That they exist in their greater as 
well as in their lesser manifestations will not be 
contested. That their music covers a wide diapa- 
son of sound, from the twanging of a string or the 
humming of a wire to the rumbling of thunder and 
reverberation of drums, has been shown. That the 
phenomenon is to be explained in every case by 
natural causes is indisputable. And if I am con- 
scious of not having found a common theory to 
account irrefutably for all examples, it is, in my 
belief, because no such theory can be made to 
apply; while in the inability to formulate it with 
exactitude I am sustained by the reflection that I 
am in the company of all the learned professors, 
who, like most professors, disagree, but who may 
perhaps be grateful to me for having given a syn- 
thesis of the problem that may provoke their re- 
newed examination. 



INDEX 



INDEX 



Abdur Rahman Khan^ Amir, 
53-98, 277-282 

appearance of, 60-62 

character of, 64-68 

conversation of, 59-60, 72- 
77, 78, 80, 85, 95 

cruelty of, 65-67, 85-93 

death of, 98 

history of, 56-59 

humour of, 63, 65, 81, 85- 
95 

irony of, 9^-97 

letters of, 81-85 
Abell, Mrs., vide Balcombe, 

Miss 
Acrocorinthos, 308 
Afghanistan, map of, 69-72 

murders in, 87 

population of, 87 
Afghans, the, 87 

descent of, 72-73 
Africa, South, 369 
Afzul Khan, Amir, 57 
Aissaouia, the, 35 
Akhnaton, 104 
Alcock, Sir R., 214 
Amenhotep or Amenophis 

III., 104-108 
Amir Rushdi, Lieut., 362 
Andkui, 95 

Annamite Girl, The, 283-284 
Apollonius, 117 
Asclepiodotus, 114 
Aughrabis Falls, 178 
Azim Khan, Amir, 57 



Baber, Emperor, 319, 327 



401 



Babusar Pass, 241 

Babylon, 240, 249 

Balcombe, Miss E., 198 

Balue, Cardinal, 236-237 

Bamian, 318 

Banias, 308 

Beaches, singing or musical, 

313-398 
Bedr, 364 

Bellew, Dr. H. W., 337 
Berendt, Dr., 386 
Bey rout, 365 
Birs Nimrud, 235, 240 
Biruni, 333 

Boddam-Whetham, C, 173 
Bogota, 174 
Bokhara, 54, 57 
Bollaert, W., 370 
Bolton, Dr. H. C, 338, 357, 

373, 376, 386, 389, 391, 

394 
Bornholm Island, 386 
Bostan Serai, 59 
Boulanger, General, 27, 31, 

36-37, 48 
Brackenbury, Sir H., 55 
Brewster, Sir D., 134 
Brown, C. Barrington, 170^ 

172 
Browning, Oscar, 265 
Brugsch, Dr., 134, 356 
Bull Ring, the, 257 
Bunji, 268-273 
Burckhardt, J. L., 359 
Burnes, Sir A., 320, 322-325 
Burton, Sir R., 362 
Butler, H. C. and Pierce, 338 



402 



TALES OF TRAVEL 



Calascibetta, 307 
Cambyses, 109, 110, 113 
Carus- Wilson, C, 385, 
Castro Giovanni, 307 
Cauvery Falls, 182 
Cavagnari, Sir L., 76 
Champlain, S., 163 
Chehilkand, 252 
Chile, 370-372 
Churchill county, 370 
Clementi, Mrs. C, 173 
Cockburn, Sir G., 197 
Colossi of Thebes, 102-110 
Commons, House of, 77 
Copiapo, 371 
Costa Rica, 391 
Curutiba River, 177 

Dakhla Oasis, 367 

Darwin, Ch., 371 

Datia, Maharaja of, 285-288 

State of, 285 
Diodorus Siculus, 112 
Domitian, Emperor, 115 
Dost Mohammed, 56, 320 
Doughty, C. M., 361 
Dufferin, Marquis of, 94 
Durand, Sir M., 55 

Edward VII., King, 283-284 
Ehrenberg, Dr., 338, 341 
Eigg Island, 384 
Elgin, Earl of, 55, 15 
Elias, Ney, 278 
Essequibo River, 142 
Etna, 306 
Euphrates, 249 

Far Rockaway, 390 
Fayrer, Sir J., 190-191 
Frascuelo, 260 

George, King of Greece, 247- 
248 



Germanicus, 114 
Gersoppa Falls, 143, 181-182 
Gobi Desert, 315 
Goldsmid, Sir F., 334 
Grand Falls, 143, 164 
Granevo, 260 
Gray, H. M., 338, 341 
Greece, King George of, 247- 

248 
Greek brigands, 302-305 
Greek Executioner, 247-248 
Guayra Falls, 174 
Gurais, 55 
Gurkhas, 245, 246 

HabibuUa Khan^ Amir, 73, 

98 
Hadrian, Emperor, 98, 115, 

119, 123, 127 
Hawaiian Islands, 372 
Hawkins, W., 282 
Hazaras, the, 76 
Helena, St., 194-195 
Hennepin, Father, 163 
Holland, F. W., 338 
Humboldt, Baron von, 133, 

177 
Humphrys, Col., 329, 332 
Hussein, King, SQS 

Ibn Batutah, 363 
Igidi, 368 

Iguasu Falls, 142, 177 
Ishak Khan, 93 
Istalif, 327 

Jahura, 36l 

Japan, Palaestra of, 207-230 
Jebel Nakus, 337-338, 375 
Jebel-ut-Tabul, 363, 375 
Jehangir, Emperor, 282 
Jiu-jitsu, 214 
Joselito, 260 
Jowett, Prof., 275 



INDEX 



403 



Julien, Dr., 389, 391, S94< 
Juvenal, 11 6, 119 

Kabul, 59y 65, 66, 67, 73, 74, 

75, 317-327, 319 
entry into, 277-282 
Kaieteur or Kaietuk Falls, 

142, 167-168 
Kairwan, city of, 27, 31 

drums of, 25-49 
Kalah-i-Kah, 334-337 
Kalendar Mountains, 366 
Kaluakahua, 373 
Karnak, 101, 138, 139 
Kauai, 372, 376 
Keneh, Dancing Girl of, 232- 

233 
Khagan, Robber of, 241-246 

valley of, 241-243 
Khanug, 364 
Kila Panja, 252, 255 
Kimberley, Earl of, 55 
King, W. J. Harding, 367 
Kioto, 207, 210, 211, 213, 

214, 227 
Kohistan, 241 
Kolberg, 386 
Korea, 290 
Koweit, 295-296 
Kukenam, 168-174 

Labrador Falls, 143, 164 
Lagartijo, 257 
Laja Falls, 178 
Langberg Mountain, 369 
Langles, M., 121 
Lataband Pass, 65 
Lawrence, Sir H., 187-193 
Lenz, Dr. O., 368 
Letronne, M., 110, 117 
Li Hung Chang, 289-294 
Libyan Desert, 367 
Littledale, St. G., 252 
Livingstone, D., 143, 146 



Lockhart, Sir W., 279-281 
LongvFOod, 194 
Lord, Dr. P. B., 320, 325 
Lovett, Capt. Beresford, 334, 

380 
Lowe, Sir Hudson, 197, 201 
Lucian, 115 
Lucknow, 188 

Residency, 187-188 
Lundi Khana, 56 
Luxor, 108 

McLean, J., l64 
Maharaja, the, 261-262 
Maimena, 95 
Malaga, 259 
Manchester-by-Sea, 389 
Masson, Ch., 320, 321, 328 
Mazar-i-Sharif, 93 
Mazzantini, 257, 260 
Mecca, 33 
Medina, 363 
Memnon, 109-113, 127, 129 

vocal, 101-138 
Mequinez, 35 
Michigan, 387 
Midian, 362 
Milan, 264-266 
Miller, Hugh, 384 
Moorsom, Lieut., 193 
Mubarrak, Sheikh, 333 
Mukadessi, 333 
Mysore, 181 

Napoleon, Emperor, 134, 198 

billiard table of, 194-205 
Nasr-ed-Din, Shah, 274-276 
Nauplia, 247 
Nefuz, the, 361 
Nejef, 235, 236 
Nero, Emperor, 114 
Newbold, Lieut., 338, 345, 

381 
Ney Elias, 278 



404 



TALES OF TRAVEL 



Niagara Falls, 143, 146, 149, 

150, 159, 163 
Niebuhr, B., 360 
Nineveh, 211 
Norden, M., 118 

Odoric, Friar, 317, 318 

Om Shomar, 360 

Orange River Falls, 143, 178- 

179 
Orcha, Maharaja of, 285-288 
Orinoco, 133 
Osaka, 213, 219 

Palmer, Prof. E. H., 338, 351, 
376, 378, 380 
Capt. H. S., 338, 354 

Pamirs, the, 251, 268 

Panjshir River, 327 

Parana River, 143 

Parwan, 329 

Pausanias, 109, 115, 119 

Persian Gulf, 295-298 

Peshawar, 54 

Philby, H. St. J., 361 

Philostratus, ll6 

Plantation House (St. He- 
lena), 197, 199 

Pliny, 115, 120 

Plutarch, 212 

Pococke, 118, 126 

Polo, Marco, 315, 317 

Potaro, River, 142, 167 

Poynting, Prof., 395 

Pritchard, M. G., 202 

Raleigh, Sir W., 170 
Rawal, Pindi, 60, 94 
Reclus, Elisee, 356 
Reg-i-Ruwan (Kabul), 319- 
332 
(Seistan), 333-337 
Richardson, W. D., 387 
Roberts, Earl, 76-80 



Roraima, 168-174 

Royal Geographical Society, 

141, 283 
Ruppell, Dr., 338, 342 

Saadi, 64 

Sabina, Empress, 115, 119 

Sahara, 368 

Salisbury, Marquis of, 294 

Salverte, M., 121 

Samarkand, 54, 57 

Sands, Singing or Musical or 

Sounding, 313-398 
Sarhad, 251-256 
Schomburgk, Sir R., 170 
Seetzen, Dr., 338 
Seistan, 333-337, 380 
Septimius Severus, Emperor, 

116, 117, 120, 128 
Shah Nasr-ed-Din, 274-276 
Shere Ali Khan, Amir, 57, 58 
Shute, C, 338 
Sinai, 337, S59 
Smith, Sir A., 134 
Spartianus, 98, 117 
Stein, Sir A., 316-317 
Strabo, 109, 112, 119 
Studland Bay, 385 
Sumo, 214 
Susa, 26, 27, 112 
Sutherland Falls, 182 

Tacitus, 114, 120 
Tarapaca, 370 
Teheran, 274-276 
Tequendama Falls, 143, 174- 

175 
Thebes, Egyptian, 101, 102, 

104, 109, 112, 118, 123, 

127,211 
Thiy, Queen, 104 
Thompson, G., 178 
Thomson, Sir J., 395 
Thoreau, H. D., 389 



INDEX 



405 



Thurn, Sir E. im, 173 

Tientsin, 293 

Tirah Campaign, 82 

Tokio, 207, 219 

Tombs of the Kings, 101, 103 

Tongking, 283 

Tor, 256 

Torkham, 56 

Tunis, 25 

Tunyang, 315 

Tutankhamen, 104 

Varelito, 260 

Viceroy of India, Lord Cur- 

zon as, 68, 97, 188, 251, 

268-273, 285-288 
Victor Emmanuel, King, 264 
Victoria, Queen, 75, 77 
Victoria Falls, vide Zambesi 
Vigne, G. T., 320 

Wadi Hamade, 360 
Wadi Werkan, 358 
Wallin, G. A., 360 
Wakhan, 251 
Ward, H. A., 338, 351 



Waterfalls, Great, 141-183 

Webb, M., 159 

Wellsted, Lieut. J., 3S8, 343, 

359, 380 
White, Sir G., 55 
Wilkinson, Sir G., 112, 121- 

129 
Wilson, Captain, 338 
Wolff, Sir H. Drummond, 

274-276 
Wood, Lieut. J., 320, 325-327 
Wrestling, English, 212, 213, 

217, 225, 30 
Greek, 212, 220, 226 
Japanese, 212, 214-230 
Wyatt, J., 338 

Yakub Khan, Amir, 58 
Yellowstone Falls, 143, 165 
Yonoff, Col., 251 
Yosemite Falls, 143, 164-165 
Younghusband, Sir F., 251 
Yule, Sir H., S66 

Zambesi, Falls of, 141-160 
Zaouias, 34 



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